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THE   NOVELS    AND    ROMANCES 

OF 

EDWARD    BULWER    LYTTON 

(LORD    LYTTON) 


l^antip  ilititarp  <etiition 
ALICE 


s-^yf^^ 


On  the  village  green  at  Burleigh. 

Prawn  by  Edmund  H.  Garrett,  etched  by  W.  H.  W.  Bicknell. 

Alice,  Frontispiece. 


^ 


W 

.  THE  NOVELL  . 

AND- ROMANCES 

9f 
EDWARD  •  BULWER 

LYTTON 

(LORD  LYTTON) 

ALICE 

> 

\ 

^ 

v^rnF>i 

BOSTON 

LITTLE  •  BROWN 
f      and    COMPANY 

1 

ijL^ — = 

M 

Copi/rif/ht,  1S9S,  1897, 
Bv  LiTi'i.K,   Brown,  and  Company. 


THK    I'VTVEIISITY    PBESS,    CAMHRIDGE,    V.  S.  A. 


PR 

NOTE. 


Although  it  has  been  judged  desirable  to  designate 
this  Second  Part  of  "  Ernest  Maltravers  "  by  its  original 
title  of  "  Alice,"  yet,  as  it  has  been  elsewhere  stated,  the 
two  Parts  are  united  by  the  same  plot,  and  form  but 
one  entire  whole.  The  more  ingenious  and  attentive 
will  perhaps  perceive  that  under  the  outward  story, 
which  knits  together  the  destinies  of  Alice  and  Mal- 
travers, there  is  an  interior  philosophical  design  which 
explains  the  author's  application  of  the  word  "  Eleusinia," 
or  "  Mysteries,"  appended  to  the  title.  Thus  regarded, 
Ernest  Maltravers  will  appear  to  the  reader  as  the  type 
of  genius,  or  intellectual  ambition,  which,  at  the  onset 
of  its  career,  devotes  itself  with  extravagant  and  often 
erring  passion  to  nature  alone  (typified  by  Alice). 
Maltravers  is  separated  by  action,  and  the  current  of 
worldly  life,  from  the  simple  and  earlier  form  of  nature : 
new  objects  successively  attract,  and  for  a  short  time 
absorb  his  devotion,  but  he  has  always  a  secret  yearning 
to  the  first  idol,  and  a  repentant  regret  for  his  loss. 
Completing,  however,  his  mental  education  in  the 
actual  world,  and  though  often  led  astray  from  the  path, 
still  earnestly  fixing  his  eye  upon  the  goal,  he  is  ulti- 
mately reunited  to  the  one  who  had  first  smiled  upon 
his  youth,  and  ever  (yet  unconsciously)  influenced  his 
after  manhood.  But  this  attachment  is  no  longer  erring, 
and  the  object  of  it  has  attained  to  a  purer  and  higher 


2227[)t30 


VIU  NOTE. 

state  of  being;  that  is,  genius,  if  duly  following  its 
vocation,  reunites  itself  to  the  nature  from  which  life 
and  art  had  for  a  while  distracted  it;  but  to  nature  in  a 
higher  and  more  spiritual  form  than  that  under  which 
youth  beholds  it,  —  nature  elevated  and  idealized. 

In  tracing  the  progress  and  denouement  of  this  concep- 
tion, the  reader  will  be  better  enabled  to  judge  both  of 
the  ethical  intention  of  the  author,  and  of  the  degree  of 
success  with  which,  as  an  artist,  he  has  connected  the 
inward  story  with  the  outer,  and  while  faithful  to  his 
main  typical  purpose,  left  to  the  characters  that  illus- 
trate it  the  attributes  of  reality,  —  the  freedom  and 
movement  of  living  beings.  So  far  as  an  author  may 
presume  to  judge  of  his  own  writings,  no  narrative  fiction 
by  the  same  hand  (with  the  exception  of  the  poem  of 
"  King  Arthur  ")  deserves  to  be  classed  before  this  work 
in  such  merit  as  may  be  thought  to  belong  to  harmony 
between  a  premeditated  conception  and  the  various 
incidents  and  agencies  employed  in  the  development 
of  plot. 

Knebworth,  Dec.  14,  1851. 


BOOK  I. 


2e  rav  ivavXiois  vno  SeuSpoKS/xois 

EuRiP.:  Hel.  1,  1116. 
Thee,  hid  the  bowering  vales  amidst,  I  call. 


ALICE;  OR,  THE  MYSTERIES. 


BOOK  I. —CHAPTER  I. 

Who  art  thou,  fair  one,  who  usurp'st  the  place 
Of  Blanch,  the  lady  of  the  matchless  grace  ? 

Lamb, 

It  was  towards  the  evening  of  a  day  in  early  April  that 
two  ladies  were  seated  by  the  open  windows  of  a  cottage 
in  Devonshire.  The  lawn  before  them  was  gay  with 
evergreens,  relieved  by  the  first  few  flowers  and  fresh 
turf  of  the  reviving  spring ;  and  at  a  distance,  through 
an  opening  amongst  the  trees,  the  sea,  blue  and  tran- 
quil, bounded  the  view,  and  contrasted  the  more  con- 
fined and  home-like  features  of  the  scene.  It  was  a  spot 
remote,  sequestered,  shut  out  from  the  business  and 
pleasures  of  the  world ;  as  such  it  suited  the  tastes  and 
character  of  the  owner. 

That  owner  was  the  younger  of  the  ladies  seated  by 
the  window.  You  would  scarcely  have  guessed,  from 
her  appearance,  that  she  was  more  than  seven  or  eight 
and  twenty,  though  she  exceeded  by  four  or  five  years 
that  critical  boundary  in  the  life  of  beauty.  Her  form 
was  slight  and  delicate  in  its  proportions,  nor  was  her 
countenance  the  less  lovely  because,  from  its  gentleness 
and  repose  (not  unmixed  with  a  certain  sadness),  the 
coarse  and  the  gay  might  have  thought  it  wanting  in 


4  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

expression.  For  there  is  a  stillness  in  the  aspect  of 
tliose  who  have  felt  deeply,  which  deceives  the  common 
eye,  —  as  rivers  are  often  alike  tranquil  and  profound, 
in  proportion  as  they  are  remote  from  the  springs  which 
agitated  and  swelled  the  commencement  of  their  course, 
and  by  which  their  waters  are  still,  though  invisibly, 
supplied. 

The  elder  lady,  the  guest  of  her  companion,  was  past 
seventy ;  her  gray  hair  was  drawn  back  from  the  fore- 
head, and  gathered  under  a  stiff  cap  of  Quaker-like  sim- 
plicity; while  her  dress,  rich  but  plain,  and  of  no  very 
modern  fashion,  served  to  increase  the  venerable  appear- 
ance of  one  who  seemed  not  ashamed  of  years. 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Leslie,"  said  the  lady  of  the  house, 
after  a  thoughtful  pause  in  the  conversation  that  had 
been  carried  on  for  the  last  hour,  "  it  is  very  true:  per- 
haps I  was  to  blame  in  coming  to  this  place;  I  ought  not 
to  have  been  so  selfish." 

"Xo,  my  dear  friend,"  returned  Mrs.  Leslie,  gently; 
"  selfish  is  a  word  that  can  never  be  applied  to  you;  you 
acted  as  became  you,  agreeably  to  your  own  instinctive 
sense  of  what  is  best,  when  at  your  age  —  independent 
in  fortune  and  rank,  and  still  so  lovely  —  you  resigned 
all  that  would  have  attracted  others,  and  devoted  your- 
self, in  retirement,  to  a  life  of  quiet  and  unknown  be- 
nevolence. You  are  in  your  sphere  in  this  village,  — 
humble  though  it  be,  —  consoling,  relieving,  healing 
the  wretched,  the  destitute,  the  infirm,  and  teaching 
your  Evelyn  insensibly  to  imitate  your  modest  and 
Christian  virtues."  The  good  old  lady  spoke  warmly, 
and  with  tears  in  her  eyes;  her  companion  placed  her 
hand  in  Mrs.  Leslie's. 

"  You  cannot  make  me  vain,"  said  she,  with  a  sweet 
and  melancholy  smile.     "  I  remember  what  I  was  when 


ALICE;   OR,   THE  MYSTERIES.  5 

you  first  gave  shelter  to  the  poor,  desolate  wanderer  and 
her  fatherless  child;  and  I,  who  was  then  so  poor  and 
destitute ,  what  should  I  be  if  I  was  deaf  to  the  poverty 
and  sorrows  of  others, —  others,  too,  who  are  better  tnan 
I  am?  But  now  Evelyn,  as  you  say,  is  growing  up; 
the  time  approaches  when  she  must  decide  on  accepting 
or  rejecting  Lord  Yargrave;  and  yet  in  this  village  how 
can  she  compare  him  with  others  ?  —  how  can  she  form  a 
choice  1  What  you  say  is  very  true ;  and  yet  1  did  not 
think  of  it  sufficiently.  What  shall  I  do  ?  I  am  only 
anxious,  dear  girl,  to  act  so  as  may  be  best  for  her  own 
happiness. " 

"  Of  that  I  am  sure,"  returned  Mrs.  Leslie;  "  and  yet 
I  know  not  how  to  advise.  On  one  hand,  so  much  is 
due  to  the  wishes  of  your  late  husband,  in  every  point 
of  view,  that  if  Lord  Vargrave  be  worthy  of  Evelyn's 
esteem  and  affection,  it  would  be  most  desirable  that  she 
should  prefer  him  to  all  others.  But  if  he  be  what  I 
hear  he  is  considered  in  the  world,  — an  artful,  schem- 
ing, almost  heartless  man,  of  ambitious  and  hard  pursuits, 
—  I  tremble  to  think  how  completely  the  happiness  of 
Evelyn's  whole  life  may  be  thrown  away.  She  cer- 
tainly is  not  in  love  with  him,  and  yet  I  fear  she  is  one 
whose  nature  is  but  too  susceptible  of  affection.  She 
ought  now  to  see  others,  to  know  her  own  mind,  and 
not  to  be  hurried,  blindfold  and  inexperienced,  into  a 
step  that  decides  existence.  This  is  a  duty  we  owe  to 
her,  —  nay,  even  to  the  late  Lord  Yargrave,  anxious  as 
he  was  for  the  marriage.  His  aim  was  surely  her  happi' 
ness,  and  he  would  not  have  insisted  upon  means  that 
time  and  circumstances  might  show  to  be  contrary  to  the 
end  he  had  in  view." 

"  You  are  right,"  replied  Lady  Vargrave;  "when  my 
poor   husband  lay  on  his  bed  of  death,  just  before  he 


6  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

summoned  his  nephew  to  receive  his  last  blessing,  he 
said  to  me,  '  Providence  can  counteract  all  our  schemes. 
If  ever  it  should  be  for  Evelyn's  real  happiness  that  my 
wish  for  her  marriage  with  Lumley  Ferrers  should  not 
be  fulfilled,  to  you  I  must  leave  the  right  to  decide  on 
what  I  cannot  foresee.  All  I  ask  is,  that  no  obstacle 
shall  be  thrown  in  the  way  of  my  wish;  and  that  the 
child  shall  be  trained  up  to  consider  Lumley  as  her  fu- 
ture husband.'  Among  his  papers  was  a  letter  ad- 
dressed to  me  to  the  same  effect;  and,  indeed,  in  oiher 
respects  that  letter  left  more  to  my  judgment  than  I 
had  any  right  to  expect.  Oh,  I  am  often  unhappy  to 
think  that  he  did  not  marry  one  who  would  hav&  de- 
served his  affection!  and  —  but  regret  is  useless  now!  " 

"  I  wish  you  could  really  feel  so,"  said  Mrs.  Leslie, 
"  for  regret  of  another  kind  still  seems  to  haunt  you ;  and 
I  do  not  think  you  have  yet  forgotten  your  early 
sorrows. " 

"Ah!  how  can  11"  said  Lady  Vargrave,  with  a 
quivering  lip. 

At  that  instant  a  light  shadow  darkened  the  sunny 
lawn  in  front  of  the  casements,  and  a  sweet,  gay  young 
voice  was  heard  singing  at  a  little  distance;  a  moment 
more,  and  a  beautiful  girl,  in  the  first  bloom  of  youth, 
bounded  lightly  along  the  grass,  and  halted  opposite  the 
friends. 

It  was  a  remarkable  contrast:  the  repose  and  quiet 
of  the  two  persons  we  have  described,  —  the  age  and  gray 
hairs  of  the  one,  the  resigned  and  melancholy  gentleness 
written  on  the  features  of  the  other,  —  with  the  spring- 
ing step  and  laughing  eyes  and  radiant  bloom  of  the 
new-comer.  As  she  stood  with  the  setting  sun  glowing 
full  upon  her  rich  fair  hair,  her  happy  countenance  and 
elastic  form,  it  was  a  vision  almost  too  bright  for  this 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  7 

weary  earth,  — a  thing  of  light  and  bliss,  that  the  joyous 
Greek  might  have  placed  among  the  forms  of  heaven, 
and  worshipped  as  an  Aurora  or  a  Hebe. 

"  Oh,  how  can  you  stay  in-doors  this  beautiful  even- 
ing? Come,  dearest  Mrs.  Leslie;  come,  mother,  dear 
mother,  you  know  you  promised  you  would  —  you  said 
I  was  to  call  you,  —  see,  it  Avill  rain  no  more,  and  the 
shower  has  left  the  myrtles  and  the  violet-bank  so 
fresh." 

"My  dear  Evelyn,"  said  Mrs.  Leslie,  with  a  smile, 
"  I  am  not  so  young  as  you. " 

"'No;  but  you  are  just  as  gay  when  you  are  in  good 
spirits,  —  and  who  can  be  out  of  spirits  in  such  weather? 
Let  me  call  for  your  chair;  let  me  wheel  you,  —  I  am 
sure  I  can.  Down,  Sultan;  so  you  have  found  me  out, 
have  you,  sir?     Be  quiet,  sir;  down!  " 

This  last  exhortation  was  addressed  to  a  splendid  dog 
of  the  Newfoundland  breed,  who  now  contrived  wholly 
to  occupy  Evelyn's  attention. 

The  two  friends  looked  at  this  beautiful  girl,  as  with 
all  the  grace  of  youth  she  shared  while  she  rebuked 
the  exuberant  hilarity  of  her  huge  playmate;  and  the 
elder  of  the  two  seemed  the  most  to  sympathize  with  her 
mirth.  Both  gazed  with  fond  affection  upon  an  object 
dear  to  both;  but  some  memory  or  association  touched 
Lady  Vargrave,  and  she  sighed  as  she  gazed. 


ALICE;  OK,   THE   MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Is  stormy  life  preferred  to  this  sereue  ?  —  Young  :  Satires, 

And  the  windows  were  closed  in,  and  night  had  suc- 
ceeded to  evening,  and  the  little  party  at  the  cottage  were 
grouped  together.  Mrs.  Leslie  was  quietly  seated  at 
her  tambour-frame;  Lady  Vargrave,  leaning  her  cheek 
on  her  hand,  seemed  absorbed  in  a  volume  before  her, 
but  her  eyes  were  not  on  the  page ;  Evelyn  was  busily 
employed  in  turning  over  the  contents  of  a  parcel  of 
books  and  music,  which  had  just  been  brought  from 
the  lodge,  where  the  London  coach  had  deposited  it. 

"  Oh,  dear  mamma!  "  cried  Evelyn,  "I  am  so  glad; 
there  is  something  you  will  like,  —  some  of  the  poetry 
that  touched  you  so  much,  set  to  music." 

Evelyn  brought  the  songs  to  her  mother,  who  roused 
herself  from  her  reverie,  and  looked  at  them  with  in- 
terest. 

"It  is  very  strange,"  said  she,  "  that  I  should  be  so 
affected  by  all  that  is  written  by  this  person;  I,  too," 
she  added,  tenderly  stroking  down  Evelyn's  luxuriant 
tresses,  "  who  am  not  so  fond  of  reading  as  you  are!  " 

"  You  are  reading  one  of  his  books  now,"  said  Evelyn, 
glancing  over  the  open  page  on  the  table.  "  Ah,  that 
beautiful  passage  upon  '  Our  First  Impressions.'  Yet  I 
do  not  like  you,  dear  mother,  to  read  his  books;  they 
always  seem  to  make  you  sad." 

"  There  is  a  charm  to  me  in  their  thoughts,  their 
manner   of   expression,"    said   Lady  Vargrave,  "which 


ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  9 

sets  me  thinking,  which  reminds  me  of  —  of  an  early 
friend,  whom  I  could  fancy  I  hear  talking  while  I  read. 
It  was  so  from  the  first  time  I  opened  by  accident  a 
book  of  his,  years  ago." 

"  Who  is  this  author  that  pleases  you  so  much  1  "  asked 
Mrs.  Leslie,  with  some  surprise,  for  Lady  Vargrave 
had  usually  little  pleasure  in  reading  even  the  greatest 
and  most  popular  masterpieces  of  modern  genius. 

"  Maltravers,"  answered  Evelyn;  "and  I  think  I 
almost  share  my  mother's  enthusiasm." 

"Maltravers!"  repeated  Mrs.  Leslie.  "He  is,  per- 
haps, a  dangerous  writer  for  one  so  young.  At  your  age, 
dear  girl,  you  have  naturally  romance  and  feeling  enough 
of  your  own,  without  seeking  them  in  books." 

"  But,  dear  madam,"  said  Evelyn,  standing  up  for 
her  favorite,"  his  writings  do  not  consist  of  romance  and 
feeling  only;  they  are  not  exaggerated,  they  are  so 
simple,   so  truthful." 

"  Did  you  ever  meet  him  1  "  asked  Lady  Vargrave. 

"  Yes,"  returned  Mrs.  Leslie,  "  once,  when  he  was  a 
gay,  fair-haired  boy.  His  father  resided  in  the  next 
county,  and  we  met  at  a  country-house.     Mr.  Maltravers 

himself  has  an  estate  near  my  daughter  in  B shire, 

but  he  does  not  live  on  it;  he  has  been  some  years 
abroad,  — a  strange  character!  " 

"  Why  does  he  write  no  more  ?  "  said  Evelyn.  "  I 
have  read  his  works  so  often,  and  know  his  poetry  so 
well  by  heart,  that  I  should  look  forward  to  something 
new  from  him  as  an  event." 

"  I  have  heard,  my  dear,  that  he  has  withdrawn  much 
from  the  world  and  its  objects,  —  that  he  has  lived 
greatly  in  the  East.  The  death  of  a  lady  to  whom  he 
was  to  have  been  married  is  said  to  have  unsettled  and 
changed    his    character.      Since    that   event    he  has  not 


10  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES. 

returned  to  England.  Lord  Vargrave  can  tell  you  more 
of  him  than  I. " 

"  Lord  Vargrave  thinks  of  nothing  that  is  not  always 
before  the  world,"  said  Evelyn. 

"  I  am  sure  you  wrong  him,"  said  Mrs.  Leslie,  look- 
ing up  and  fixing  her  eyes  on  Evelyn's  countenance; 
"  for  yoxi  are  not  before  the  world. " 

Evelyn  slightly  —  very  slightly  —  pouted  her  pretty 
lip,  but  made  no  answer.  She  took  up  the  music,  and 
seating  herself  at  the  piano,  practised  the  airs.  Lady 
Vargrave  listened  with  emotion;  and  as  Evelyn  in  a 
voice  exquisitely  sweet,  though  not  powerful,  sang  the 
words,  her  mother  turned  away  her  face,  and,  half  un- 
consciously, a  few  tears  stole  silently  down  her  cheek. 

When  Evelyn  ceased,  herself  affected,  —  for  the  lines 
were  impressed  with  a  wild  and  melancholy  depth  of 
feeling, — she  came  again  to  her  mother's  side,  and 
seeing  her  emotion,  kissed  away  the  tears  from  the  pen- 
sive eyes.  Her  own  gayety  left  her;  she  drew  a  stool 
to  her  mother's  feet,  and  nestling  to  her,  and  clasping 
her  hand,  did  not  leave  that  place  till  they  retired  to 
rest. 

And  the  lady  blessed  Evelyn,  and  felt  that,  if  be* 
reaved,  she  was  not  alone. 


ALICE;  OK,   THE   MYSTEKIES.  11 


CHAPTER   III. 

But  come,  thou  Goddess,  fair  and  free, 
lu  heaven  yclept  Euphrosyne ! 

To  hear  the  lark  begin  his  flight, 
And,  singing,  startle  the  dull  night. 

L'Allegro. 

But  come,  thou  Goddess,  sage  and  holy. 
Come,  divinest  Melancholy ! 


There  held  in  holy  passions  still, 
Forget  thyself  to  marble. 


H  Penseroso. 


The  early  morning  of  early  spring,  —  what  associations 
of  freshness  and  hope  in  that  single  sentence!  And 
there,  —  a  little  after  sunrise,  — there  was  Evelyn,  fresh 
and  hopeful  as  the  morning  itself,  bounding  with  the 
light  step  of  a  light  heart  over  the  lawn.  Alone, — 
alone!  no  governess,  with  a  pinched  nose  and  a  sharp 
voice,  to  curb  her  graceful  movements,  and  tell  her  how 
young  ladies  ought  to  walk.  How  silently  morning 
stole  over  the  earth!  It  was  as  if  youth  had  the  day 
and  the  world  to  itself.  The  shutters  of  the  cottage 
were  still  closed,  and  Evelyn  cast  a  glance  upward,  to 
assure  herself  that  her  mother,  who  also  rose  betimes, 
was  not  yet  stirring.  So  she  tripped  along,  singing  from 
very  glee,  to  secure  a  companion  and  let  out  Sultan ;  and 
a  few  moments  afterwards  they  were  scouring  over  the 
grass,  and  descending  the  rude  steps  that  wound  down 
the  cliff  to  the  smooth  sea-sands.     Evelyn  was  still  a 


12  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

child  at  heart,  yet  somewhat  more  than  a  child  in  mind. 
In  the  majesty  of 

"  That  hollow,  sounding,  and  mysterious  main  ;  " 

in  the  silence  broken  but  by  the  murmur  of  the  bil- 
lows; in  the  solitude  relieved  but  by  the  boats  of  the 
early  fishermen,  —  she  felt  those  deep  and  tranquilliz- 
ing influences  which  belong  to  the  religion  of  nature. 
Unconsciously  to  herself,  her  sweet  face  grew  more 
thoughtful,  and  her  step  more  slow.  What  a  complex 
thing  is  education !  How  many  circumstances  that 
have  no  connection  with  books  and  tutors  contribute 
to  the  rearing  of  the  human  mind !  The  earth  and  the 
sky  and  the  ocean  were  among  the  teachers  of  Evelyn 
Cameron ;  and  beneath  her  simplicity  of  thought  was 
daily  filled,  from  the  urns  of  invisible  spirits,  the  foun- 
tain of  the  poetry  of  feeling. 

This  was  the  hour  when  Evelyn  most  sensibly  felt 
how  little  our  real  life  is  chronicled  by  external  events, 

—  how  much  we  live  a  second  and  a  higher  life  in  our 
meditations  and  dreams.  Brought  up,  not  more  by  pre- 
cept than  example,  in  the  faith  which  unites  creature 
and  Creator,  this  was  the  hour  in  which  thought  itself 
had  something  of  the  holiness  of  prayer;  and  if  (turning 
from  dreams  divine  to  earthlier  visions)  this  also  was 
the  hour  in  which  the  heart  painted  and  peopled  its  own 
fairy-land  below,  — of  the  two  ideal  worlds  that  stretch 
beyond  the  inch  of  time  on  which  we  stand,  imagination 
is  perhaps  holier  than  memory. 

So  now,  as  the  day  crept  on,  Evelyn  returned  in  a 
more  sober  mood,  and  then  she  joined  her  mother  and 
Mrs,  Leslie  at  breakfast;  and  then  the  household  cares 

—  such  as  they  were  —  devolved  upon  her,  heiress  though 
she  was;  and  that  duty  done,  once  more  the  straw  hat 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  13 

and  Sultan  were  in  requisition;  and  opening  a  little 
gate  at  the  back  of  the  cottage,  she  took  the  path  along 
the  village  churchyard  that  led  to  the  house  of  the  old 
curate.  The  burial-ground  itself  was  surrounded  and 
shut  in  with  a  belt  of  trees.  Save  the  small  time- 
discolored  church,  and  the  roofs  of  the  cottage  and  the 
minister's  house,  no  building  —  not  even  a  cotter's  hut 
—  was  visible  there.  Beneath  a  dark  and  single  yew- 
tree,  in  the  centre  of  the  ground,  was  placed  a  rude  seat; 
opposite  to  this  seat  was  a  grave,  distinguished  from  the 
rest  by  a  slight  palisade.  As  the  young  Evelyn  passed 
slowly  by  this  spot,  a  glove  on  the  long  damp  grass  be- 
side the  yew-tree  caught  her  eye.  She  took  it  up  and 
sighed,  —  it  was  her  mother's.  She  sighed ;  for  she 
thought  of  the  soft  melancholy  on  that  mother's  face 
which  her  caresses  and  her  mirth  never  could  wholly 
chase  away.  She  wondered  why  that  melancholy  was 
so  fixed  a  habit,  —  for  the  young  ever  wonder  why  the 
experienced  should  be  sad. 

And  now  Evelyn  had  passed  the  churchyard,  and  was 
on  the  green  turf  before  the  minister's  quaint,  old- 
fashioned  house. 

The  old  man  himself  was  at  work  in  his  garden ;  but 
be  threw  down  his  hoe  as  he  saw  Evelyn,  and  came 
cheerfully  up  to  greet  her.  It  was  easy  to  see  how  dear 
she  was  to  him. 

"  So  you  are  come  for  your  daily  lesson,  my  young 
pupil  ]  " 

"  Yes ;  but  Tasso  can  wait  if  the  —  " 

"If  the  tutor  wants  to  play  truant;  no,  my  child; 
and,  indeed,  the  lesson  must  be  longer  than  usual  to- 
day, for  I  fear  I  shall  have  to  leave  you  to-morrow  for 
some  days." 

"  Leave  us !  why  ?   Leave  Brook-Green ;  impossible !  " 


14  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

*•  Xot  at  all  impossible;  for  we  have  now  a  new  vicar, 
and  I  must  turn  courtier  in  my  old  age,  and  ask  him  to 
leave  me  with  my  flock.  He  is  at  Weymouth,  and  has 
written  to  me  to  visit  him  there.  So,  Miss  Evelyn,  I 
must  give  you  a  holiday  task  to  learn  while  I  am  away." 

Evelyn  brushed  the  tears  from  her  eyes,  —  for  when 
the  heart  is  full  of  affection,  the  eyes  easily  run  over,  — 
and  clung  mournfully  to  the  old  man,  as  she  gave  utter- 
ance to  all  her  half-childish,  half-womanly  grief  at  the 
thought  of  parting  so  soon  with  him.  And  what,  too, 
could  her  mother  do  without  him;  and  why  could  he 
not  write  to  the  vicar,  instead  of  going  to  him  ? 

The  curate,  who  was  childless  and  a  bachelor,  was 
not  insensilile  to  the  fondness  of  his  beautiful  pupil,  and 
perhaps  he  himself  was  a  little  more  distrait  than  usual 
that  morning,  or  else  Evelyn  was  peculiarly  inatten- 
tive; for  certain  it  is  that  she  reaped  very  little  benefit 
■i.rom  the  lesson. 

Yet  he  was  an  admirable  teacher,  that  old  man! 
Aware  of  Evelyn's  quick,  susceptible,  and  rather  fan- 
ciful character  of  mind,  he  had  sought  less  to  curb  than 
to  refine  and  elevate  her  imagination.  Himself  of  no 
ordinary  abilities,  which  leisure  had  allowed  him  to 
cultivate,  his  piety  was  too  large  and  cheerful  to  ex- 
clude literature  —  Heaven's  best  gift  —  from  the  pale  of 
religion.  And  under  his  care  Evelyn's  mind  had  been 
duly  stored  with  the  treasures  of  modern  genius,  and 
her  judgment  strengthened  by  the  criticisms  of  a  grace- 
ful and  generous  taste. 

In  that  sequestered  hamlet,  the  young  heiress  had 
been  trained  to  adorn  her  future  station;  to  appreciate 
the  arts  and  elegancies  that  distinguish  (no  matter  what 
the  rank)  the  refined  from  the  low,  better  than  if  she 
had  been  brought  up  under  the  hundred-handed  Briareua 


ALICE;    OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  15 

of  fashionable  education.  Lady  Vargrave,  indeed,  like 
most  persons  of  modest  pretensions  and  imperfect  culti- 
vation, was  rather  inclined  to  overrate  the  advantages 
to  be  derived  from  book-knowledge;  and  she  was  never 
better  pleased  than  when  she  saw  Evelyn  opening  the 
monthly  parcel  from  London,  and  delightedly  poring 
over  volumes  which  Lady  Vargrave  innocently  believed 
to  be  reservoirs  of  inexhaustible  wisdom. 

But  this  day  Evelyn  would  not  read,  and  the  golden 
verses  of  Tasso  lost  their  music  to  her  ear.  So  the 
curate  gave  up  the  lecture,  and  placed  a  little  programme 
of  studies,  to  be  conned  during  his  absence,  in  her 
reluctant  hand;  and  Sultan,  who  had  been  wistfully 
licking  his  paws  for  tlie  last  half -hour,  sprang  vip  and 
caracoled  once  more  into  the  garden ;  and  the  old  priest 
and  the  young  woman  left  the  works  of  man  for  those  of 
Nature. 

"Do  not  fear;  I  will  take  such  care  of  your  garden 
while  you  are  away,"  said  Evelyn;  "  and  you  must  write 
and  let  us  know  what  day  you  are  to  come  back. " 

"  My  dear  Evelyn,  you  are  born  to  spoil  every  one, — 
from  Sviltan  to  Aubrey." 

"And  to  be  spoilt  too,  —  don't  forget  that,"  cried 
Evelyn,  laughingly  shaking  back  her  ringlets.  "  And 
now,  before  you  go,  will  you  tell  me,  as  you  are  so  wise, 
what  I  can  do  to  make  —  to  make  —  my  mother  love 
me  ?  " 

Evelyn's  voice  faltered  as  she  spoke  the  last  words, 
and  Aubrey  looked  surprised  and  moved. 

"  Your  mother  love  you,  my  dear  Evelyn!  What  do 
you  mean  1     Does  she  not  love  you  1  " 

"Ah,  not  as  I  love  her.  She  is  kind  and  gentle,  I 
know,  for  she  is  so  to  all;  but  she  does  not  confide  in 
me,  —  she  does  not  trust  me;  she  has  some  sorrow  at 


16  ALICE;   OR,    THE   MYSTEPJES. 

heart  which  I  am  never  allowed  to  learn  and  soothe. 
Why  does  she  avoid  all  mention  of  her  early  days? 
She  never  talks  to  me  as  if  she,  too,  had  once  a  mother. 
AYhy  am  I  never  to  speak  of  her  first  marriage,  —  of  my 
father?  Why  does  she  look  reproachfully  at  me,  and 
shun  me  —  yes,  shun  me,  for  days  together  —  if  —  if  I 
attempt  to  draw  her  to  the  past  ?  Is  there  a  secret  ?  If 
so,  am  I  not  old  enough  to  know  it?  " 

Evelyn  spoke  quickly  and  nervously,  and  with  quiv- 
ering lips.  Aubrey  took  her  hand,  and  pressing  it, 
said,  after  a  little  pause,  — 

"  Evelyn,  this  is  the  first  time  you  have  ever  thus 
spoken  to  me.  Has  anything  chanced  to  arouse  your  — 
shall  I  call  it  curiosity,  or  shall  I  call  it  the  mortified 
pride  of  affection  ?  " 

"  And  you,  too,  are  harsh;  you  blame  me!  No,  it  is 
true  that  I  have  not  thus  spoken  to  you  before ;  but  I 
have  long,  long  thought  with  grief  that  I  was  insuffi- 
cient to  my  mother's  happiness,  —  I  who  love  her  so 
dearly.  And  now,  since  Mrs.  Leslie  has  been  here,  I 
find  her  conversing  with  this  comparative  stranger  so 
much  more  confidentially  than  with  me:  when  I  come 
in  unexpectedly,  they  cease  their  conference,  as  if  I  were 
not  worthy  to  share  it;  and  —  and  oh,  if  I  could  but 
make  you  understand  that  all  I  desire  is,  that  my  mother 
should  love  me  and  know  me  and  trust  me  —  " 

"Evelyn,"  said  the  curate,  coldly,  "you  love  your 
mother,  and  justly;  a  kinder  and  a  gentler  heart  than 
hers  does  not  beat  in  a  human  breast.  Her  first  wish 
in  life  is  for  your  happiness  and  welfare.  You  ask  for 
confidence,  but  why  not  confide  in  her?  Why  not  be- 
lieve her  actuated  by  the  best  and  the  tenderest  motives  ? 
Why  not  leave  it  to  her  discretion  to  reveal  to  you  any 
secret  grief,  if  such  there  be,  that  preys  upon  her?    Why 


ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  17 

add  to  that  grief  by  any  selfish  indulgence  of  over' 
susceptibility  in  yourself?  My  dear  pupil,  you  are  yet 
almost  a  child ;  and  they  who  have  sorrowed  may  well 
be  reluctant  to  sadden  with  a  melancholy  confidence 
those  to  whom  sorrow  is  yet  unknown.  This  much,  at 
least,  I  may  tell  you,  —  for  this  much  she  does  not  seek 
to  conceal ,  —  that  Lady  Vargrave  was  early  inured  to 
trials  from  which  you,  more  happy,  have  been  saved. 
She  speaks  not  to  you  of  her  relations,  for  she  has  none 
left  on  earth.  And  after  her  marriage  with  your  bene- 
factor, Evelyn,  perhaps  it  seemed  to  her  a  matter  of 
principle  to  banish  all  vain  regret,  all  remembrance,  if 
possible,  of  an  earlier  tie." 

"My  poor,  poor  mother!  Oh,  yes,  you  are  right; 
forgive  me.  She  yet  mourns,  perhaps,  my  father,  whom 
I  never  saw,  whom  I  feel,  as  it  were,  tacitly  forbid  to 
name ;  you  did  not  know  him  1 " 

"Him!  — whom  r' 

"  My  father,  my  mother's  first  husband  1  " 

"No." 

"  But  I  am  sure  I  could  not  have  loved  him  so  well 
as  my  benefactor,  my  real  and  second  father,  who  is 
now  dead  and  gone.  Oh,  how  well  I  remember  him, — 
how  fondly !  "  Here  Evelyn  stopped  and  burst  into 
tears. 

"You  do  right  to  remember  him  thus;  to  love  and 
revere  his  memory:  a  father,  indeed,  he  was  to  you. 
But  now,  Evelyn,  my  own  dear  child,  hear  me.  Respect 
the  silent  heart  of  your  mother:  let  her  not  think  that 
her  misfortunes,  whatever  they  may  be,  can  cast  a  shadow 
over  you,  —  you,  her  last  hope  and  blessing.  Bather 
than  seek  to  open  the  old  wounds,  suffer  them  to  heal, 
as  they  must,  beneath  the  influences  of  religion  and 
time,  and  wait   the    hour  when  without,  perhaps,  too 

2 


18  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

keen  a  grief,  your  mother  can  go  back  with  you  into 
the  past." 

"I  will,  T  will!  Oh,  how  wicked,  how  ungracious 
I  have  been!  it  was  but  an  excess  of  love,  believe  it, 
dear  Mr.   Aubrey,   believe  it." 

"  I  do  believe  it,  my  poor  Evelyn;  and  now  I  know 
that  I  may  trust  in  you.  Come,  dry  those  bright  eyes, 
or  they  Avill  think  I  have  been  a  hard  taskmaster,  and 
let  us  go  to  the  cottage." 

They  walked  slowly  and  silently  across  the  humble 
garden  into  the  churchyard,  and  there,  by  the  old  yew- 
tree,  they  saw  Lady  Vargrave.  Evelyn,  fearful  that  the 
traces  of  her  tears  Avere  yet  visible,  drew  back;  and 
Aubrey,  aware  of  what  passed  within  her,  said, — 

"  Shall  I  join  your  mother,  and  tell  her  of  my  ap- 
proaching departure  ?  And  perhaps,  in  the  mean  while, 
you  will  call  at  our  poor  pensioner's  in  the  village. 
Dame  Newman  is  so  anxious  to  see  you;  we  will  join 
you  there  soon." 

Evelyn  smiled  her  thanks,  and  kissing  her  hand  to 
her  mother  with  seeming  gayety,  turned  back  and  passed 
through  the  glebe  into  the  little  village.  Aubrey  joined 
Lady  Vargrave,  and  drew  her  arm  in  his. 

Meanwhile  Evelyn  thoughtfully  pursued  her  way. 
Her  heart  Avas  full,  and  of  self-reproach.  Her  mother 
had,  then,  known  cause  for  sorrow;  and  perhaps  her  re- 
serve was  but  occasioned  by  her  reluctance  to  pain  her 
child.  Oh,  how  doubly  anxious  would  Evelyn  be  here- 
after to  soothe,  to  comfort,  to  wean  that  dear  mother 
from  the  past!  Though  in  this  girl's  character  there 
was  something  of  the  impetuosity  and  thoughtlessness 
of  her  years,  it  was  noble  as  well  as  soft;  and  now 
the  woman's  trustfulness  conquered  all  the  woman's 
curiosity. 


ALICE  ;  OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  19 

She  entered  the  cottage  of  the  old  bed-ridden  crone 
whom  Aubrey  had  referred  to.  It  was  as  a  gleam  of 
sunshine,  that  sweet  comforting  face;  and  here,  seated 
by  the  old  woman's  side,  with  the  Book  of  the  Poor 
upon  her  lap,  Evelyn  was  found  by  Lady  Vargrave. 
It  was  curious  to  observe  the  different  impressions  upon 
the  cottagers  made  by  the  mother  and  daughter.  Both 
were  beloved  with  almost  equal  enthusiasm;  but  with 
the  first  the  poor  felt  more  at  home.  They  could  talk 
to  her  more  at  ease :  she  understood  them  so  much  more 
quickly ;  they  had  no  need  to  beat  about  the  bush  to 
tell  the  little  peevish  complaints  that  they  were  half 
ashamed  to  utter  to  Evelyn.  What  seemed  so  light  to 
the  young,  cheerful  beauty,  the  mother  listened  to  with 
so  grave  and  sweet  a  patience.  When  all  went  right, 
they  rejoiced  to  see  Evelyn;  but  in  their  little  diflicul- 
ties  and  sorrows,  nobody  was  like  "  my  good  lady!  " 

So  Dame  Newman,  the  moment  she  saw  the  pale 
countenance  and  graceful  shape  of  Lady  Vargrave  at  the 
threshold,  \ittered  an  exclamation  of  delight.  Now  she 
could  let  out  all  that  she  did  not  like  to  trouble  the 
young  lady  with;  now  she  could  complain  of  east  winds, 
and  rheumatiz,  and  the  parish  officers,  and  the  bad  tea 
they  sold  poor  people  at  Mr.  Hart's  shop,  and  the  un- 
grateful grandson  who  was  so  well  to  do,  and  who  forgot 
he  had  a  grandmother  alive. 


20  ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  week  we  received  a  card  from  the  town 
ladies.  —  Vicm-  of  Wukejield. 

The  curate  was  gone,  and  the  lessons  suspended;  other- 
wise —  as  like  each  to  each  as  sunshine  or  cloud  per- 
mitted —  day  followed  day  in  the  calm  retreat  of  Brook- 
Green;  when,  one  morning,  Mrs.  Leslie,  with  a  letter 
in  her  hand,  sought  Lady  Vargrave,  who  was  busied  in 
tending  the  flowers  of  a  small  conservatory  which  she 
had  added  to  the  cottage,  when,  from  various  motives, 
and  one  in  especial  powerful  and  mysterious,  she  ex- 
changed for  so  sequestered  a  home  the  luxurious  villa 
bequeathed  to  her  by  her  husband. 

To  flowers  —  those  charming  children  of  Nature,  in 
which  our  age  can  take  the  same  tranquil  pleasure  as 
our  youth  —  Lady  Vargrave  devoted  much  of  her  monoto- 
nous and  uncheckered  time.  She  seemed  to  love  them 
almost  as  living  things;  and  her  memory  associated 
them  with  hours  as  bright  and  as  fleeting  as  themselves. 

"My  dear  friend,"  said  Mrs.  Leslie,  "  I  have  news  for 
you.  My  daugliter,  Mrs.  Merton,  who  has  been  in  Corn- 
wall on  a  visit  to  her  husband's  mother,  writes  me  word 
that  she  will  visit  us  on  her  road  home  to  the  Rectory 

in  B shire.     She  will  not  put  you  much  out  of  the 

way,"  added  Mrs.  Leslie,  smiling;  "for  Mr.  Merton 
will  not  accompany  her:  she  only  brings  her  daughter 
Caroline,  a  lively,  handsome,  intelligent  girl,  who  will 
be  enchanted  with  Evelyn.  All  you  will  regret  is,  that 
she  comes  to  terminate  my  visit,  and  take  me  away  with 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTEIUKS.  21 

her.     If  you  can  forgive  that  offence,  you  will  have 
nothing  else  to  pardon." 

Lady  Vargrave  replied  with  her  usual  simple  kind- 
ness; but  she  was  evidently  nervous  at  the  visit  of  a 
stranger  (for  she  had  never  yet  seen  Mrs.  Merton) ,  and 
still  more  distressed  at  the  thought  of  losing  Mrs.  Leslie 
a  week  or  two  sooner  than  had  been  anticipated.  How- 
ever, Mrs.  Leslie  hastened  to  reassure  her.  Mrs.  Merton 
was  so  quiet  and  good-natured,  the  wife  of  a  country 
clergyman  with  simple  tastes;  and,  after  all,  Mrs. 
Leslie's  visit  might  lasfe  as  long,  if  Lady  Vargrave 
would  be  contented  to  extend  her  hospitality  to  Mrs. 
Merton  and  Caroline. 

When  the  visit  was  announced  to  Evelyn,  her  young 
heart  was  susceptible  only  of  pleasure  and  curiosity. 
She  had  no  friend  of  her  own  age;  she  was  sure  she 
should  like  the  grandchild  of  her  dear  Mrs.  Leslie. 

Evelyn,  who  had  learned  betimes,  from  the  affec- 
tionate solicitude  of  her  nature,  to  relieve  her  mother 
of  s"ch  few  domestic  cares  as  a  home  so  quiet,  with  an 
establishment  so  regular,  could  afford,  gayly  busied  her- 
self in  a  thousand  little  preparations.  She  filled  the 
rooms  of  the  visitors  with  flowers  (not  dreaming  that 
any  one  could  fancy  them  unwholesome),  and  spread 
the  tables  with  her  own  favorite  books,  and  had  the 
little  cottage  piano  in  her  own  dressing-room  removed 
into  Caroline's,  —  Caroline  must  be  fond  of  music:  she 
had  some  doubts  of  transferring  a  cage  with  two  canaries 
into  Caroline's  room  also,  but  when  she  approached  the 
cage  with  that  intention,  the  birds  chirped  so  merrily, 
and  seemed  so  glad  to  see  her,  and  so  expectant  of  sugar, 
that  her  heart  smote  her  for  her  meditated  desertion  and 
ingratitude.  No,  she  could  not  give  up  the  canaries; 
but  the  glass  bowl  with  the  gold-fish,  —oh,  that  would 


22  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

look  so  pretty  on  its  stand  just  by  the  casement;  and 
the  fish  —  dull  things!  —  would  not  miss  her. 

The  morning,  the  noon,  the  probable  hour  of  the 
important  arrival  came  at  last;  and  after  having  three 
times  within  the  last  half-hour  visited  the  rooms,  and 
settled  and  unsettled,  and  settled  again  everything  be- 
fore arranged,  Evelyn  retired  to  her  own  room  to  consult 
her  wardrobe,  and  Margaret, — once  her  nurse,  now  her 
Abigail.  Alas!  the  wardrobe  of  the  destined  Lady  Var- 
grave  —  the  betrothed  of  a  rising  statesman,  a  new  and 
now  an  ostentatious  peer;  the  heiress  of  the  wealthy 
Templeton  —  was  one  that  many  a  tradesman's  daughter 
would  have  disdained.  Evelyn  visited  so  little;  the 
clergyman  of  the  place,  and  two  old  maids  who  lived 
most  respectably  on  a  hundred  and  eighty  pounds  a  year, 
in  a  cottage,  with  one  maidservant,  two  cats,  and  a 
footboy,  bounded  the  circle  of  her  acquaintance.  Her 
mother  was  so  indifferent  to  dress;  she  herself  had  found 
60  many  other  ways  of  spending  money,  —  but  Evelyn 
was  not  now  more  philosophical  than  others  of  her  age. 
She  turned  from  muslin  to  muslin  —  from  the  colored 
to  the  white,  from  the  white  to  the  colored  —  with  pretty 
anxiety  and  sorrowful  suspense.  At  last  she  decided  on 
the  newest,  and  when  it  was  on,  and  the  single  rose  set 
in  the  lustrous  and  beautiful  hair,  Carson  herself  could 
not  have  added  a  charm.  Happy  age !  Who  wants  the 
arts  of  the  milliner  at  seventeen? 

"  And  here,  miss,  —  here  's  the  fine  necklace  that  Lord 
Vargrave  brought  down  when  my  lord  came  last;  it  will 
look  so  grand!  " 

The  emeralds  glittered  in  their  case;  Evelyn  looked 
at  them  irresolutely;  then,  as  she  looked,  a  shade  came 
over  her  forehead,  and  she  sighed,  and  closed  the  lid. 

"  No,  Margaret,  I  do  not  want  it;  take  it  away." 


ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  23 

**  Oh,  dear,  miss!  what  would  my  lord  say  if  he  were 
down?  And  they  are  so  beautiful!  they  will  look  so 
fine  !  Deary  me,  how  they  sparkle  !  But  you  will  wear 
much  finer  when  you  are  my  lady. " 

"  I  hear  mamma's  bell ;  go,  Margaret,  she  wants  you. " 

Left  alone,  the  young  beauty  sank  down  abstractedly, 
and  though  the  looking-glass  was  opposite,  it  did  not 
arrest  her  eye;  she  forgot  her  wardrobe,  her  muslin 
dress,  her  fears,  and  her  guests. 

"  Ah,"  she  thought,  "  what  a  weight  of  dread  I  feel 
here  when  I  think  of  Lord  Vargrave  and  this  fatal 
engagement;  and  every  day  I  feel  it  more  and  more. 
To  leave  my  dear,  dear  mother,  the  dear  cottage,  —  oh, 
I  never  can !  I  used  to  like  him  when  I  was  a  child ; 
now  I  shudder  at  his  name.  Why  is  this?  He  is  kind, 
—  he  condescends  to  seek  to  please.  It  was  the  wish  of 
my  poor  father,  —  for  father  he  really  was  to  me;  and 
yet  —  oh  that  he  had  left  me  poor  and  free !  " 

At  this  part  of  Evelyn's  meditation  the  unusual  sound 
of  wheels  was  heard  on  the  gravel ;  she  started  up,  Aviped 
the  tears  from  her  eyes,  and  hurried  down  to  welcome 
the  expected  guests. 


2-i  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Tell  me,  Sophy,  my  dear,  what  do  you  think  of  our  new 
visitors  ?  —  Vicar  of  Wakefield. 

Mrs.  Merton  and  her  daughter  were  already  in  the 
middle  drawing-room,  seated  on  either  side  of  Mrs.  Les- 
lie :  the  former  a  woman  of  quiet  and  pleasing  exterior, 
her  face  still  handsome,  and  if  not  intelligent,  at  least 
expressive  of  sober  good-nature  and  habitual  content; 
the  latter  a  fine  dark-eyed  girl,  of  decided  countenance, 
and  what  is  termed  a  showy  style  of  beauty,  —  tall, 
self-possessed,  and  dressed  plainly  indeed,  but  after  the 
approved  fashion.  The  rich  bonnet  of  the  large  shape 
then  worn;  the  Chantilly  veil;  the  gay  French  Cache- 
rtiire;  the  full  sleeves,  at  that  time  the  unnatural  rage; 
the  expensive  yet  unassuming  robe  de  sole;  the  perfect 
chanssure  ;  the  air  of  society;  the  easy  manner;  the 
tranquil  but  scrutinizing  gaze,  —  all  startled,  discom- 
I^osed,  and  half  frightened  Evelyn. 

IMiss  Merton  herself,  if  more  at  her  ease,  was  equally 
surprised  by  the  beauty  and  unconscious  grace  of  the 
young  fairy  before  her,  and  rose  to  greet  her  with  a 
well-bred  cordiality  which  at  once  made  a  conquest  of 
Evelyn's  heart. 

Mrs.  Merton  kissed  her  cheek,  and  smiled  kindly  on 
her,  but  said  little.  It  was  easy  to  see  that  she  was  a 
less  conversable  and  more  homely  person  than  Caroline. 

When  Evelyn  conducted  them  to  their  rooms,  the 
motlier  and  daughter  detected  at  a  glance  the  care  that 
had   provided  for  their  comforts;  and  something   eager 


ALICE;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  25 

and  expectant  in  Evelyn's  eyes  taught  the  good-nature 
of  the  one  and  the  good-breeding  of  the  other  to  reward 
their  young  hostess  by  various  little  exclamations  of 
pleasure  and  satisfaction. 

"  Dear,  how  nice!  What  a  pretty  writing-desk!  "  said 
one.  "  And  the  pretty  gold-fish !  "  said  the  other.  "  And 
the  piano,  too,  so  well  placed;  "  and  Caroline's  fair  fin- 
gers ran  rapidly  over  the  keys.  Evelyn  retired,  covered 
with  smiles  and  blushes.  And  then  Mrs.  Merton  per- 
mitted herself  to  say  to  the  well-dressed  Abigail,  — 

"  Do  take  away  those  flowers :  they  make  me  quite 
faint." 

"And  how  low  the  room  is, — so  confined!"  said 
Caroline,  when  the  lady's  lady  withdrew  with  the  con- 
demned flowers.  "And  I  see  no  Psyche,  —  however, 
the  poor  people  have  done  their  best." 

"  Sweet  person.  Lady  Vargrave,"  said  Mrs.  Merton, 
—  "  so  interesting,  so  beautiful !  —  and  how  youthful  in 
appearance !  " 

"  No  tournure,  —  not  much  the  manner  of  the  world," 
said  Caroline. 

"  No;  but  something  better." 

"  Hem  !  "  said  Caroline.  "  The  girl  is  very  pretty, 
though  too  small." 

"  Such  a  smile,  such  eyes,  — she  is  irresistible  !  And 
what  a  fortune  !  —  she  will  be  a  charming  friend  for 
you,  Caroline." 

"  Yes,  she  may  be  useful,  if  she  marry  Lord  Vargrave; 
or,  indeed,  if  she  make  any  brilliant  match.  What 
sort  of  a  man  is  Lord  Vargrave  1  " 

"  I  never  saw  him;  they  say,  most  fascinating." 

"Well,  she  is  very  happy,"  said  Caroline,  with  a 
sigh. 


26  ALICE;  OR,   THE  MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Two  lovely  damsels  cheer  my  lonely  walk.  —  Lamb  :  Album  Verses. 

After  dinner,  there  was  still  light  enough  for  the 
young  people  to  stroll  through  the  garden.  Mrs.  Mer- 
ton,  who  was  afraid  of  the  damp,  preferred  staying 
within;  and  she  was  so  quiet,  and  made  herself  so 
much  at  home,  that  Lady  Vargrave,  to  use  Mrs.  Leslie's 
phrase,  was  not  the  least  "  put  out  "  by  her;  besides, 
she  talked  of  Evelyn,  and  that  was  a  theme  very  dear  to 
Lady  Vargrave,  who  was  both  fond  and  proud  of 
Evelyn. 

"This  is  very  pretty  indeed!  —  the  view  of  the  sea 
quite  lovely !  "  said  Caroline.     "  You  draw  ?  " 

"  Yes,  a  little." 

"  From  nature  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes!  " 

"What,  in  Lidian  ink?  " 

"  Yes;  and  water-colors." 

"  Oh!  why,  who  could  have  taught  you  in  this  little 
village,  or,  indeed,  in  this  most  primitive  county?  " 

"  We  did  not  come  to  Brook-Green  till  I  was  nearly 
fifteen.  My  dear  mother,  though  very  anxious  to  leave 
our  villa  at  Fulhara,  would  not  do  so,  on  my  account, 
while  masters  could  be  of  service  to  me;  and  as  I  knew 
she  had  set  her  heart  on  this  place,  I  worked  doubly 
hard." 

"  Then  she  knew  this  place  before  1  " 

"  Yes ;  she  had  been  here  many  years  ago,  and  took 
the  place  after  my  poor  father's  death   (I  always  call 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  27 

the  late  Lord  Vargrave  my  father).  She  used  to  come 
here  regularly  once  a  year  without  me ;  and  when  she 
returned,  I  thought  her  even  more  melancholy  than 
before." 

"  What  makes  the  charm  of  the  place  to  Lady  Var- 
grave? "  asked  Caroline,  with  some  interest. 

"  I  don't  know,  unless  it  be  its  extreme  quiet,  or 
some  early  association." 

"  And  who  is  your  nearest  neighbor  1  " 

"Mr,  Aubrey,  the  curate.  It  is  so  unlucky,  he  is 
gone  from  home  for  a  short  time.  You  can't  think  how 
kind  and  pleasant  he  is :  the  most  amiable  old  man  in 
the  world, — just  such  a  man  as  Bernardin  St.  Pierre 
would  have  loved  to  describe. " 

"Agreeable,  no  doubt,  but  dull,  —good  curates  gen- 
erally are." 

"  Dull,  —  not  the  least;  cheerful,  even  to  playfulness, 
and  full  of  information.  He  has  been  so  good  to  me 
about  books;  indeed,  I  have  learned  a  great  deal  from 
him." 

"  I  dare  say  he  is  an  admirable  judge  of  sermons." 

"But  Mr.  Aubrey  is  not  severe,"  persisted  Evelyn, 
earnestly;  "he  is  very  fond  of  Italian  literature,  for 
instance :  we  are  reading  Tasso  together. " 

"  Oh!  pity  he  is  old,  —  I  think  you  said  he  was  old. 
Perhaps  there  is  a  son,  the  image  of  the  sirel  " 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Evelyn,  laughing  innocently;  "Mr. 
Aubrey  never  married. " 

"  And  where  does  the  old  gentleman  live  ?  " 

"Come  a  little  this  way,  —  there,  you  can  just  see 
the  roof  of  his  house,  close  by  the  church." 

"  I  see;  it  is  tant  soit  peu  triste  to  have  the  church 
80  near  you." 

"Do  you  think  so?     Ah!  but  you  have  not  seen  it: 


28  ALICE;   OK,   THK   MYSTERIES. 

it  is  the  prettiest  church  in  the  county ;  and  the  little 
burial-ground,  —  so  quiet,  so  shut  in;  I  feel  better  every 
time  I  pass  it.      Some  places  breathe  of  religion." 

"  You  are, poetical,  my  dear  little  friend." 

Evelyn,  who  had  poetry  in  her  nature,  —  and  there- 
fore sometimes  it  broke  out  in  her  simple  language,  — 
colored  and  felt  half  ashamed. 

"It  is  a  favorite  walk  with  my  mother,"  said  she, 
apologetically ;  "  she  often  spends  hours  there  alone ; 
and  so  perhaps  I  think  it  a  prettier  spot  than  others 
may.  It  does  not  seem  to  me  to  have  anything  of  gloom 
in  it;  when  I  die,  I  should  like  to  be  buried  there." 

Caroline  laughed  slightly,  "  That  is  a  strange  wish; 
but  perhaps  you  have  been  crossed  in  love?  " 

"  I!  oh,  you  are  laughing  at  me!  " 

"  You  do  not  remember  Mr.  Cameron ,  your  real 
father,  I  suppose?  " 

"  lio;  I  believe  he  died  before  I  was  born." 

"  Cameron  is  a  Scotch  name :  to  what  tribe  of  Cam- 
erons  do  you  belong?  " 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Evelyn,  rather  embarrassed; 
"  indeed,  I  know  nothing  of  my  father's  or  mother's 
family.  It  is  very  odd,  but  I  don't  think  we  have  any 
relations.  You  know,  when  I  am  of  age,  that  I  am  to 
take  the  name  of  Templeton." 

"  Ah !  the  name  goes  with  the  fortune ;  I  understand. 
Dear  Evelyn,  how  rich  you  will  be!  I  do  so  wish  I 
were  rich!  " 

"And  I  that  I  were  poor,"  said  Evelyn,  with  an 
altered  tone  and  expression  of  countenance. 

"  Strange  girl  !  what  can  you  mean?  " 

Evelyn  said  nothing,  and  Caroline  examined  her 
curiously. 

"  These  notions  come  from  living  so  much  out  of  the 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  29 

world,  my  dear   Evelyn.     How  you  must   long  to   see 
more  of  life  !  " 

"I!  not  in  the  least.  I  should  never  like  to  leave 
this  place,  —  I  could  live  and  die  here." 

"  You  will  think  otherwise  when  you  are  Lady  Var- 
grave.  Why  do  you  look  so  grave  1  Do  you  not  love 
Lord  Vargrave  ?  " 

"  What  a  question!  "  said  Evelyn,  turning  away  her 
head,  and  forcing  a  laugh. 

"  It  is  no  matter  whether  you  do  or  not:  it  is  a  bril- 
liant position.  He  has  rank,  reputation,  high  oifice:  all 
he  wants  is  money,  and  that  you  will  give  him.  Alas! 
I  have  no  prospect  so  bright.  I  have  no  fortune,  and  I 
fear  my  face  will  never  buy  a  title,  an  opera-box,  and  a 
house  in  Grosvenor  Square.  I  wish  I  were  the  future 
Lady  Vargrave." 

"  I  am  sure  I  wish  you  were,"  said  Evelyn,  with  great 
naivete;  "  you  would  suit  Lord  Vargrave  better  than  I 
should." 

Caroline  laughed. 

"  Why  do  you  think  so  1  " 

"  Oh,  his  way  of  thinking  is  like  yours;  he  never  says 
anything  T  can  sympathize  with." 

"  A  pretty  compliment  to  me !  Depend  upon  it,  my 
dear,  you  will  sympathize  with  me  when  you  have  seen 
as  much  of  the  world.  But  Lord  Vargrave,  —  is  he  too 
old?" 

"  No,  I  don't  think  of  his  age;  and  indeed  he  looks 
younger  than  he  is." 

"  Is  he  handsome  1  " 

"He  is  what  may  be  called  handsome,  —  you  woidd 
think  so." 

"Well,  if  he  comes  here,  I  will  do  my  best  to  win 
him  from  you;  so  look  to  yourself." 


30  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

"  Oh,  I  should  be  so  grateful ;  I  should  like  him  so 
much,  if  he  would  fall  in  love  with  you  !  " 

"  I  fear  there  is  no  chance  of  that." 

"  But  how,"  said  Evelyn,  hesitatingly,  after  a  pause, 
—  "  how  is  it  that  you  have  seen  so  much  more  of  the 
world  than  I  have  ?  I  thought  Mr.  Merton  lived  a  great 
deal  in  the  country." 

"  Yes,  but  my  uncle,  Sir  John  Merton,  is  member  for 
the  county ;  my  grandmother,  on  my  father's  side,  — 
Lady  Elizabeth,  who  has  Tregony  Castle  (which  we 
have  just  left)  for  her  jointure-house,  —  goes  to  town 
almost  every  season,  and  I  have  spent  three  seasons  with 
her.  She  is  a  charming  old  woman,  —  quite  the  grande 
dame.  I  am  sorry  to  say  she  remains  in  Cornwall  this 
year;  she  has  not  been  very  well;  the  physicians  forbid 
late  hours  and  London :  but  even  in  the  country  we  are 
very  gay.  My  uncle  lives  near  us,  and  though  a  wid- 
ower, has  his  house  full  when  down  at  Merton  Park; 
and  papa,  too,  is  rich,  very  hospitable,  and  popular, 
and  will,  I  hope,  be  a  bishop  one  of  these  days,  — not 
at  all  like  a  mere  country  parson;  and  so,  somehow  or 
other,  I  have  learned  to  be  ambitious,  —  we  are  an  am- 
bitious family  on  papa's  side.  But,  alas!  I  have  not 
your  cards  to  play.  Young,  beautiful,  and  an  heiress! 
Ah,  what  prospects!  You  should  make  your  mamma 
take  you  to  town. " 

"  To  town !  she  would  be  wretched  at  the  very  idea. 
Oh,  you  don't  know  us." 

"  I  can't  help  fancying.  Miss  Evelyn,"  said  Caroline, 
archly,  "  that  you  are  not  so  blind  to  Lord  Vargrave's 
perfections,  and  so  indifferent  to  London,  only  from  the 
pretty,  innocent  way  of  thinking,  that  so  prettily  and 
innocently  you  express.  I  daresay,  if  the  truth  were 
known,  there  is  some  handsome  young   rector,  besides 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  31 

the  old  curate,  who  plays  the  flute,  and  preaches  senti- 
mental sermons  in  Avhite  kid  gloves. " 

Evelyn  laughed  merrily,  —  so  merrily  that  Caroline's 
suspicions  vanished.  They  continued  to  walk  and  talk 
thus  till  the  night  came  on,  and  then  they  went  in; 
and  Evelyn  showed  Caroline  her  drawings,  which  as- 
tonished that  young  lady,  who  was  a  good  judge  of 
accomplishments.  Evelyn's  performance  on  the  piano 
astonished  her  yet  more ;  but  Caroline  consoled  herself 
on  this  point,  for  her  voice  was  more  powerful,  and  she 
sang  French  songs  with  much  more  spirit.  Caroline 
showed  talent  in  all  she  undertook;  but  Evelyn,  despite 
her  simplicity,  had  genius,  though  as  yet  scarcely  de- 
veloped, —  for  she  had  quickness,  emotion,  susceptibility, 
imagination.  And  the  difference  between  talent  and 
genius  lies  rather  in  the  heart  than  the  head. 


33  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

Dost  thou  feel 
The  solemn  whispering  influence  of  the  scene 
Oppressing  thy  young  heart,  that  thou  dost  draw 
More  closely  to  my  side  ■* 

F.  Hemans  :  Wood  Walk  and  Hymn. 

Caroline  and  Evelyn,  as  was  natural,  became  great 
friends.  They  were  not  kindred  to  each  other  in  dispo- 
sition, but  they  were  thrown  together,  and  friendship 
thus  forced  upon  both.  Unsuspecting  and  sanguine,  it 
was  natural  to  Evelyn  to  admire;  and  Caroline  was,  to 
her  inexperience,  a  brilliant  and  imposing  novelty. 
Sometimes  Miss  Merton's  worldliness  of  thought  shocked 
Evelyn;  but  then  Caroline  had  a  way  with  her  as  if 
she  were  not  in  earnest,  —  as  if  she  were  merely  indulg- 
ing an  inclination  towards  irony;  nor  was  she  without 
a  certain  vein  of  sentiment  that  persons  a  little  hack- 
neyed in  the  world,  and  young  ladies  a  little  disap- 
pointed that  they  are  not  wives  instead  of  maids,  easily 
acquire.  Trite  as  this  vein  of  sentiment  was,  poor 
Evelyn  thought  it  beautiful  and  most  feeling.  Then, 
Caroline  was  clever,  entertaining,  cordial,  with  all  that 
superficial  superiority  that  a  girl  of  twenty-three  who 
knows  London  readily  exercises  over  a  country  girl  of 
seventeen.  On  the  other  hand,  Caroline  was  kind  and 
affectionate  towards  lier.  The  clergyman's  daughter  felt 
that  slie  could  not  be  always  superior,  even  in  fashiou, 
to  the  wealthy  heiress. 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  33 

One  evening,  as  Mrs.  Leslie  and  Mrs.  Merton  sat  under 
the  veranda  of  the  cottage,  without  their  hostess,  who 
had  gone  alone  into  the  village,  and  the  young  ladies 
were  confidentially  conversing  on  the  lawn,  Mrs.  Leslie 
said  rather  abruptly,  "  Is  not  Evelyn  a  delightful  crea- 
ture ?  How  unconscious  of  her  beauty;  how  simple,  and 
yet  so  naturally  gifted  I  " 

"  I  have  never  seen  one  who  interested  me  more," 
said  Mrs.  Merton,  settling  her  pelerine ;  "  she  is  ex- 
tremely pretty." 

"I  am  so  anxious  about  her,"  resumed  Mrs.  Leslie, 
thoughtfully.  "  You  know  the  wish  of  the  late  Lord 
Vargrave  that  she  should  marry  his  nephew,  the  present 
lord,  when  she  reaches  the  age  of  eighteen.  She  only 
wants  nine  or  ten  months  of  that  time;  she  has  seen 
nothing  of  the  world ;  she  is  not  fit  to  decide  for  her- 
self;  and  Lady  Vargrave,  the  best  of  human  creatures, 
is  still  herself  almost  too  inexperienced  in  the  world  to 
be  a  guide  for  one  so  young,  placed  in  such  peculiar  cir- 
cumstances, and  of  prospects  so  brilliant.  Lady  Var- 
grave, at  heart,  is  a  child  still,  and  will  be  so  even  when 
as  old  as  I  am." 

"  It  is  very  true,"  said  Mrs.  Merton.  "  Don't  you 
fear  that  the  girls  will  catch  cold?  The  dew  is  falling, 
and  the  grass  must  be  wet. " 

"I  have  thought,"  continued  Mrs.  Leslie,  without 
heeding  the  latter  part  of  Mrs.  Merton's  speech,  "  that 
it  would  be  a  kind  thing  to  invite  Evelyn  to  stay 
with  you  a  few  months  at  the  Kectory.  To  be  sure, 
it  is  not  like  London ;  but  you  see  a  great  deal  of  the 
world;  the  society  at  your  house  is  well  selected,  and 
at  times  even  brilliant;  she  will  meet  young  people  of 
her  own  age,  and  young  people  fashion  and  form  each 
other. " 

a 


34  ALICE  ;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

"  I  was  thinking,  myself,  that  I  should  like  to  invite 
her,"  said  Mrs.  Merton;  "  I  will  consult  Caroline." 

"Caroline,  I  am  sure,  would  be  delighted;  the  difl&- 
culty  lies  rather  in  Evelyn  herself." 

"  You  surprise  me  !  she  must  be  moped  to  death  here. " 

**  But  will  slie  leave  her  mother  ?  " 

""VYhy,  Caroline  often  leaves  me,"  said  Mrs,  Merton. 

Mrs.  Leslie  was  silent,  and  Evelyn  and  her  new  friend 
now  joined  the  mother  and  daughter. 

"  I  have  been  trying  to  persuade  Evelyn  to  pay  us  a 
little  visit,"  said  Caroline;  "  she  could  accompany  us  so 
nicely;  and  if  she  is  still  strange  Avith  us,  dear  grand- 
mamma goes  too,  —  I  am  sure  we  can  make  her  at 
home." 

"  How  odd !  "  said  Mrs.  Merton ;  "  we  were  just  say- 
ing the  same  thing.  My  dear  Miss  Cameron,  we  should 
be  so  happy  to  have  you." 

"  And  I  should  be  so  happy  to  go,  if  mamma  would 
but  go  too. " 

As  she  spoke,  the  moon,  just  risen,  showed  the  form 
of  Lady  Vargrave  slowly  approaching  the  house.  By 
the  light,  her  features  seemed  more  pale  than  usual;  and 
her  slight  and  delicate  form,  with  its  gliding  motion 
and  noiseless  step,  had  in  it  something  almost  ethereal 
and  unearthly. 

Evelyn  turned  and  8aw  her,  and  her  heart  smote  her. 
Her  mother,  —  so  wedded  to  the  dear  cottage;  and  had 
this  gay  stranger  rendered  that  dear  cottage  less  attractive, 
—  she  who  had  said  she  could  live  and  die  in  its  humble 
precincts?  Abruptly  she  left  her  new  friend,  hastened 
to  her  mother,  and  threw  her  arms  fondly  round  her. 

"  You  are  pale ;  you  have  over-fatigued  yourself. 
Where  have  you  been  1  Why  did  you  not  take  me  with 
you?" 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  35 

Lady  Vargrave  pressed  Evelyn's  hand  affectionately. 

"  You  care  for  me  too  much,"  said  she.  "  I  am  but  a 
dull  companion  for  you ;  I  was  so  glad  to  see  you  happy 
with  one  better  suited  to  your  gay  spirits.  What  can 
we  do  when  she  leaves  us  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  I  want  no  companion  but  my  own,  own  mother. 
And  have  I  not  Sultan  too?"  added  Evelyn,  smiling 
away  the  tear  that  had  started  to  her  eyes. 


36  ALICE;   OR,   THE  MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Friend  after  friend  departs ; 

Who  hath  not  lost  a  friend  ? 
There  is  no  union  here  of  hearts 

That  finds  not  here  an  end. 

J.    MOKTGOMEHT. 

That  night  Mrs.  Leslie  sought  Lady  Vargrave  in  her 
own  room.  As  she  entered  gently,  she  observed  that, 
late  as  the  hour  was.  Lady  Vargrave  was  stationed  by 
the  open  window,  and  seemed  intently  gazing  on  the 
scene  below.  Mrs.  Leslie  reached  her  side  unperceived. 
The  moonlight  was  exceedingly  bright,  and  just  beyond 
the  garden,  from  which  it  was  separated  but  by  a  slight 
fence,  lay  the  solitary  churchyard  of  the  hamlet,  with 
the  slender  spire  of  the  holy  edifice  rising  high  and 
tapering  into  the  shining  air.  It  was  a  calm  and  tran- 
quillizing scene;  and  so  intent  was  Lady  Vargrave's 
abstracted  gaze  that  Mrs.  Leslie  was  unwilling  to  dis- 
turb her  reverie. 

At  length  Lady  Vargrave  turned ;  and  there  was  that 
patient  and  pathetic  resignation  written  in  her  coun- 
tenance which  belongs  to  those  whom  the  world  can 
deceive  no  more,  and  who  have  fixed  their  hearts  in  the 
life  beyond. 

Mrs.  Leslie,  whatever  she  thought  or  felt,  said  noth- 
ing, except  in  kindly  remonstrance  on  the  indiscretion 
of  braving  the  night  air.  The  window  was  closed;  they 
sat  down  to  confer. 

Mrs.  Leslie  repeated  the  invitation  given  to  Evelyn, 
and  urged  the  advisability  of  accepting  it.     "  It  is  cruel 


ALICE  ;  OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  37 

to  separate  you,"  said  she;  "  I  feel  it  acutely.  "Why 
not,  then,  come  with  Evelyn?     You  shake  your  head, 

—  why  always  avoid  society  ?  So  young  yet,  you  give 
yourself  too  much  to  the  past !  " 

Lady  Vargrave  rose,  and  walked  to  a  cabinet  at  the 
end  of  the  room;  she  unlocked  it,  and  beckoned  to  Mrs. 
Leslie  to  approach.  In  a  drawer  lay  carefully  folded 
articles  of  female  dress,  rude,  homely,  ragged,  —  the 
dress  of  a  peasant  girl. 

"  Do  these  remind  you  of  your  first  charity  to  me  ?  " 
she  said  touchingly :  "  they  tell  me  that  I  have  nothing 
to  do  with  the  world  in  which  you  and  yours,  and 
Evelyn  herself,  should  move." 

"  Too  tender  conscience !  Your  errors  were  but  those 
of  circumstance,  of  youth;  how  have  they  been  re- 
deemed! None  even  suspect  them.  Your  past  his- 
tory is  known  but  to  the  good  old  Aubrey  and  myself. 
No  breath,  even  of  rumor,  tarnishes  the  name  of  Lady 
Vargrave." 

"  JMrs.  Leslie,"  said  Lady  Vargrave,  reclosing  thft 
cabinet,  and  again  seating  herself,  "  my  world  lies 
around  me,  —  I  cannot  quit  it.  If  I  were  of  use  to 
Evelyn,  then  indeed  I  would  sacrifice,  brave  all;  but 
I  only  cloud  her  spirits.      I  have  no  advice  to  give  her, 

—  no  instruction  to  bestow.  When  she  was  a  child,  I 
could  watch  over  her;  when  she  was  sick,  I  could  nurse 
her;  but  now  she  requires  an  adviser,  a  guide;  and  I 
feel  too  sensibly  that  this  task  is  beyond  my  powers. 
I,  a  guide  to  youth  and  innocence,  — I!  No,  I  have 
nothing  to  offer  her  —  dear  child !  —  but  my  love  and 
my  prayers.  Let  your  daughter  take  her,  then,  —  watch 
over  her,  guide,  advise  her.  For  me,  —  unkind,  un- 
grateful as  it  may  seem,  —  were  she  but  happy,  I  could 
well  bear  to  be  alone !  " 


38  ALICE  ;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

"  But  she,  —  how  will  she,  who  loves  you  so,  submit 
to  this  separation  1  " 

"It  will  not  be  long;  and,"  added  Lady  Vargrave, 
with  a  serious  yet  sweet  smile,  "  she  had  better  be  pre- 
pared for  that  separation  which  must  come  at  last.  As 
year  by  year  I  outlive  my  last  hope,  —  that  of  once  more 
beholding /ii?>i,  —  I  feel  that  life  becomes  feebler  and 
feebler,  and  I  look  more  on  that  quiet  churchyard  as 
a  home  to  which  I  am  soon  returning.  At  all  events, 
Evelyn  will  be  called  upon  to  form  new  ties,  that  must 
estrange  her  from  me;  let  her  wean  herself  from  one  so 
useless  to  her,  to  all  the  world,  —  now,  and  by  degrees." 

"  Speak  not  thus,"  said  Mrs.  Leslie,  strongly  affected; 
"  you  have  many  years  of  happiness  yet  in  store  for  you : 
the  more  you  recede  from  youth,  the  fairer  life  will 
become  to  you." 

"God  is  good  to  me,"  said  the  lady,  raising  her 
meek  eyes;  "and  I  have  already  found  it  so, —  I  am 
contented. " 


ALICE  ;  OR.  THE  MYSTERIES.  39 


CHAPTER   IX. 

The  greater  part  of  them  seemed  to  he  charmed  with  his 
presence.  —  Mackenzie:  The  Man  of  the  World. 

It  Avas  with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  Evelyn  could  at 
last  be  persuaded  to  consent  to  the  separation  from  her 
toother:  she  wept  bitterly  at  the  thought.  But  Lady 
Vargrave,  though  touched,  was  firm;  and  her  firmness 
was  of  that  soft,  imploring  character  which  Evelyn 
never  could  resist.  The  visit  was  to  last  some  months, 
it  is  true;  but  she  would  return  to  the  cottage;  she 
would  escape,  too,  —  and  this,  perhaps,  unconsciously 
reconciled  her  more  than  aught  else,  —  the  periodical 
visit  of  Lord  Vargrave.  At  the  end  of  July,  when  the 
parliamentary  session,  at  that  unreformed  era,  usually 
expired,  he  always  came  to  Brook-Green  for  a  month. 
His  last  visits  had  been  most  unwelcome  to  Evelyn,  and 
this  next  visit  she  dreaded  more  than  she  had  any  of  the 
former  ones.  It  is  strange,  the  repugnance  with  which 
she  regarded  the  suit  of  her  affianced,  —  she  whose  heart 
was  yet  virgin,  who  had  never  seen  any  one  who,  in 
form,  manner,  and  powers  to  please,  could  be  compared 
to  the  gay  Lord  Vargrave.  And  yet  a  sense  of  honor, 
of  what  was  due  to  her  dead  benefactor,  her  more 
than  father,  —  all  combated  that  repugnance ,  and  left 
her  uncertain  what  course  to  pursue,  uncalculating  as  to 
the  future.  In  the  happy  elasticity  of  her  spirits,  and 
with  a  carelessness  almost  approaching  to  levity,  which, 
to  say  truth,  was  natural  to  her,  she  did  not  often  recall 
the  solemn  engagement  that  must  soon  be  ratified  or 


40  ALICE  ;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES. 

annulled;  but  when  that  thought  did  occur,  it  saddened 
her  for  hours,  and  left  her  listless  and  despondent.  The 
visit  to  Mrs.  Merton  was,  then,  finally  arranged,  the  day 
of  departure  fixed,  when,  one  morning,  came  the  fol- 
lowing letter  from  Lord  Vargrave  himself :  — 

TO   THE   LADY   VARGRAVE,    ETC.,   ETC. 

My  DEAR  Friend,  —  I  find  that  we  have  a  week's  holiday 
in  our  do-nothing  Chamber,  and  the  weather  is  so  delightful 
that  I  long  to  share  its  enjoyment  with  those  I  love  best. 
You  will,  therefore,  see  me  almost  as  soon  as  you  receive  this  ; 
that  is,  I  shall  be  with  you  at  dinner  on  the  same  day.  What 
can  I  say  to  Evelyn  ?  Will  you,  dearest  Lady  Vargrave,  make 
her  accept  all  the  homage  which,  when  uttered  by  me,  she 
seems  hall'  inclined  to  reject?  In  haste,  most  affectionately 
yours, 

Vargrave. 

Hamilton  Place,  April  30,  18 — . 

This  letter  was  by  no  means  welcome,  either  to  Mrs. 
Leslie  or  to  Evelyn.  The  former  feared  that  Lord  Var- 
grave would  disapprove  of  a  visit,  the  real  objects  of 
which  could  scarcely  be  owned  to  him.  The  latter  was 
reminded  of  all  she  desired  to  forget.  But  Lady  Var- 
grave herself  rather  rejoiced  at  the  thought  of  Lum- 
ley's  arrival.  Hitherto,  in  the  spirit  of  her  passive 
and  gentle  character,  she  had  taken  the  engagement 
between  Evelyn  and  Lord  Vargrave  almost  as  a  matter 
of  course.  The  will  and  wish  of  her  late  husband  oper- 
ated most  powerfully  on  her  mind;  and  while  Evelyn 
was  yet  in  childhood,  Lumley's  visits  had  ever  been 
acceptable,  and  the  playful  girl  liked  the  gay  and  good- 
humored  lord,  who  brought  her  all  sorts  of  presents, 
and  appeared  as  fond  of  dogs  as  herself.  But  Evelyn's 
recent  change  of  manner,  her  frequent  fits  of  dejection 


ALICE;   OR,   THE  MYSTERIES,  41 

and  thought,  —  once  pointed  out  to  Lady  Vargrave  by 
Mrs.  Leslie,  — aroused  all  the  affectionate  and  maternal 
anxiety  of  the  former.  She  was  resolved  to  watch,  to 
examine,  to  scrutinize,  not  only  Evelyn's  reception  of 
Vargrave,  but,  as  far  as  she  could,  the  manner  and  dis- 
position of  Vargrave  himself.  She  felt  how  solemn  a 
trust  was  the  happiness  of  a  whole  life;  and  she  had 
that  romance  of  heart,  learned  from  nature,  not  in  books, 
which  made  her  believe  that  there  could  be  no  happiness 
in  a  marriage  without  love. 

The  whole  family  party  were  on  the  lawn,  when,  an 
hour  earlier  than  he  was  expected,  the  travelling-car- 
riage of  Lord  Vargrave  was  whirled  along  the  narrow 
sweep  that  conducted  from  the  lodge  to  the  house.  Var- 
grave, as  he  saw  the  party,  kissed  his  hand  from  the 
window,  and  leaping  from  the  carriage  when  it  stopped 
at  the  porch,  hastened  to  meet  his  hostess. 

"  My  dear  Lady  Vargrave,  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you. 
You  are  looking  charmingly;  and  Evelyn? — oh,  there 
she  is.  The  dear  coquette,  how  lovely  she  is!  how  she 
has  improved!  But  who,"  sinking  his  voice,  —  "who 
are  those  ladies  1  " 

"  Guests  of  ours :  Mrs.  Leslie,  whom  you  have  often 
heard  us  speak  of,  but  never  met  —  " 

"Yes,  — and  the  others?" 

"  Her  daughter  and  grandchild. " 

"  I  shall  be  delighted  to  know  them." 

A  more  popular  manner  than  Lord  Vargrave 's  it  is 
impossible  to  conceive.  Frank  and  prepossessing  even 
when  the  poor  and  reckless  Mr.  Ferrers,  without  rank 
or  reputation,  his  smile,  the  tone  of  his  voice,  his  fa- 
miliar courtesy,  apparently  so  inartificial  and  approaching 
almost  to  a  boyish  bluntness  of  good-humor,  —  were 
irresistible  in  the  rising  statesman  and  favored  courtier. 


42  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

Mrs.  Merton  was  enchanted  with  him;  Caroline 
thought  him,  at  the  first  glance,  the  most  fascinating 
person  she  had  ever  seen;  even  Mrs.  Leslie,  more  grave, 
cautious,  and  penetrating,  was  almost  equally  pleased 
Avith  the  first  impression;  and  it  was  not  till,  in  his 
occasional  silence,  his  features  settled  into  their  natural 
expression,  that  she  fancied  she  detected,  in  the  quick, 
suspicious  eye  and  the  close  compression  of  the  lips, 
the  tokens  of  that  wily,  astute,  and  worldly  character, 
which,  in  proportion  as  he  had  risen  in  his  career,  even 
his  own  party  reluctantly  and  mysteriously  assigned  to 
one  of  their  most  prominent  leaders. 

When  Vargrave  took  Evelyn's  hand,  and  raised  it 
with  meaning  gallantry  to  his  lips,  the  girl  first  blushed 
deeply,  and  then  turned  pale  as  death;  nor  did  the  color 
thus  chased  away  soon  return  to  the  transparent  cheek. 
Not  noticing  signs  which  might  hear  a  twofold  inter- 
pretation, Lumley,  who  seemed  in  high  spirits,  rattled 
away  on  a  thousand  matters,  —  praising  the  view,  the 
weather,  the  journey;  throwing  out  a  joke  here,  and 
a  compliment  there,  and  completing  his  conquest  over 
Mrs.  Merton  and  Caroline. 

"  You  have  left  London  in  the  very  height  of  its 
gayety.  Lord  Vargrave,"  said  Caroline,  as  they  sat  con- 
versing after  dinner. 

"  True,  Miss  Merton;  but  the  country  is  in  the  height 
of  its  gayety  too. " 

"  Are  you  so  fond  of  the  country, then?  " 

"  By  fits  and  starts :  my  passion  for  it  comes  in  Avith 
the  early  strawberries,  and  goes  out  with  the  hautboys, 
—  I  lead  so  artificial  a  life ;  but  then  I  hope  it  is  a  use- 
ful one.  I  want  nothing  but  a  homo  to  make  it  a  happy 
one." 

"  What  is  the  latest  news?     Dear  London!     I  am  so 


ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  43 

sorry  grandmamma,  Lady  Elizabeth,  is  not  going  there 
this  year;  so  I  am  compelled  to  rusticate.  Is  Lady 
Jane  D to  he  married  at  last  1  " 

"  Commend   me  to  a  young  lady's  idea  of  news,  — 

always  marriage !    Lady  Jane  D !    Yes ;  she  is  to  he 

married,  as  you  say,  —  at  last !  While  she  was  a  beauty 
our  cold  sex  were  shy  of  her;  but  she  has  now  faded 
into  plainness,  —  the  proper  color  for  a  wife." 

"  Complimentary !  " 

"  Indeed  it  is;  for  you  beautiful  women  we  love  too 
much  for  our  own  happiness  —  heigho!  —  and  a  prudent 
marriage  means  friendly  indifference,  not  rapture  and 
despair.  But  give  me  beauty  and  love;  I  never  was 
prudent:  it  is  not  my  weakness." 

Though  Caroline  was  his  sole  supporter  in  this  dia- 
logue, Lord  Vargrave's  eyes  attempted  to  converse  with 
Evelyn,  who  was  unusually  silent  and  abstracted.  Sud- 
denly Lord  Vargrave  seemed  aware  that  he  was  scarcely 
general  enough  in  his  talk  for  his  hearers.  He  addressed 
himself  to  Mrs.  Leslie,  and  glided  back,  as  it  were,  into 
a  former  generation.  He  spoke  of  persons  gone  and 
things  forgotten;  he  made  the  subject  interesting  even 
to  the  young,  by  a  succession  of  various  and  sparkling 
anecdotes.  No  one  could  be  more  agreeable:  even 
Evelyn  now  listened  to  him  with  pleasure;  for  to  all 
women  wit  and  intellect  have  their  charm.  But  still 
there  was  a  cold  and  sharp  levity  in  the  tone  of  the  man 
of  the  world  that  prevented  the  charm  sinking  below 
the  surface.  To  Mrs.  Leslie  he  seemed  unconsciously 
to  betray  a  laxity  of  principle;  to  Evelyn,  a  want  of 
sentiment  and  heart.  Lady  Vargrave,  who  did  not 
understand  a  character  of  this  description,  listened  at- 
tentively, and  said  to  herself,  "  Evelyn  may  admire, 
but  I  fear  she   cannot   love   him."     Still  time  passed 


44  ALICE;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES. 

quickly  in  Lumley's  presence,  and  Caroline  thought 
she  had  never  spent  so  pleasant  an  evening. 

When  Lord  Vargrave  retired  to  his  room,  he  threw 
himself  in  his  chair,  and  yawned  with  exceeding  fervor. 
His  servant  arranged  his  dressing-robe,  and  placed  his 
portfolios  and  letter-boxes  on  the  table. 

"  What  o'clock  is  it  1  "  said  Lumley. 

"  Very  early,  my  lord:  only  eleven." 

"  The  devil !  —  the  country  air  is  wonderfully  ex- 
hausting.    I  am  very  sleepy;  you  may  go. 

"  This  little  girl,"  said  Lumley,  stretching  himself, 
"  is  preternatural  ly  shy;  1  must  neglect  her  no  longer,  — 
yet  it  is  surely  all  safe.  She  has  grown  monstrous 
pretty;  but  the  other  girl  is  more  amusing,  more  to  my 
taste,  and  a  much  easier  conquest,  I  fancy.  Her  great 
dark  eyes  seem  full  of  admiration  for  my  lordship:  sen- 
sible young  woman!  —  she  may  be  useful  in  piquing 
Evelyn." 


ALICE;  OR,  THE  MYSTERIES.  45 


CHAPTER  X. 

Julio.   "Wilt  thou  have  him  1  —  The  Maid  in  the  Mill. 

Lord  Vargrave  heard  the  next  morning,  with  secret 
distaste  and  displeasure,  of  Evelyn's  intended  visit  to 
the  Mertons.  He  could  scarcely  make  any  open  objec- 
tion to  it;  but  he  did  not  refrain  from  many  insinua- 
tions as  to  its  impropriety. 

"  My  dear  friend,"  said  he  to  Lady  Vargrave,  "  it  is 
scarcely  right  in  you  (pardon  me  for  saying  it)  to 
commit  Evelyn  to  the  care  of  comparative  strangers. 
Mrs.  Leslie,  indeed,  you  know;  but  Mrs.  Merton,  you 
allow,  you  have  now  seen  for  the  first  time,  —  a  most 
respectable  person,  doubtless;  but  still,  recollect  how 
young  Evelyn  is,  how  rich,  what  a  prize  to  any  younger 
sons  in  the  Merton  family  (if  such  there  be).  Miss 
Merton  herself  is  a  shrewd,  worldly  girl,  and  if  she 
were  of  our  sex,  would  make  a  capital  fortune-hunter. 
Don't  think  my  fear  is  selfish ;  I  do  not  speak  for  myself. 
If  I  were  Evelyn's  brother,  I  should  be  yet  more  earnest 
in  my  remonstrance." 

"  But,  Lord  Vargrave,  poor  Evelyn  is  dull  here;  my 
spirits  infect  hers.  She  ought  to  mix  more  with  those 
of  her  own  age,  to  see  more  of  the  world  before  — 
before  —  " 

"  Before  her  marriage  with  me.  Eorgive  me,  but  is 
not  that  my  afi"air?  If  I  am  contented,  nay,  charmed 
with  her  innocence,  —  if  I  prefer  it  to  all  the  arts  which 
society  could  teach  her,  —  surely  you  would  be  acquitted 
for  leaving  her  in  the  beautiful  simplicity  that  makes 


46  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

her  chief  fascination  1  She  will  see  enough  of  the  -world 
as  Lady  Vargrave." 

"  But  if  she  should  resolve  never  to  be  Lady 
Vargrave  —  1  " 

Lumley  started,  bit  his  lip,  and  frowned.  Lady 
Vargrave  had  never  before  seen  on  his  countenance  the 
dark  expression  it  now  wore.  He  recollected  and  re- 
covered himself,  as  he  observed  her  eye  fixed  upon  him, 
and  said,  with  a  constrained  smile,  — 

"  Can  you  anticipate  an  event  so  fatal  to  my  happi- 
ness, so  unforeseen,  so  opposed  to  all  my  poor  uncle's 
wishes,  as  Evelyn's  rejection  of  a  suit  pursued  for  years, 
»nd  so  solemnly  sanctioned  in  her  very  childhood  ?  " 

"  She  must  decide  for  herself,"  said  Lady  Vargrave. 
"  Your  uncle  carefully  distinguished  between  a  wish 
and  a  command.  Her  heart  is  as  yet  untouched.  If 
she  can  love  you,  may  you  deserve  her  affection." 

"  It  shall  be  my  study  to  do  so.  But  why  this 
departure  from  your  roof,  just  when  we  ought  to  see 
most  of  each  other'?  It  cannot  be  that  you  would 
separate  us  ?  " 

"  I  fear,  Lord  Vargrave,  that  if  Evelyn  were  to  remain 
here ,  she  would  decide  against  you.  I  fear  if  you  press 
her  now,  such  now  may  be  her  premature  decision. 
Perhaps  this  arises  from  too  fond  an  attachment  for  her 
home;  perhaps  even  a  short  absence  from  her  home 
—  from  me  —  may  more  reconcile  her  to  a  permanent 
separation. " 

Vargrave  could  say  no  more,  for  here  they  were  joined 
by  Caroline  and  Mrs.  Merton;  but  his  manner  was 
changed,  nor  could  he  recover  the  gayety  of  the  previous 
night. 

When,  however,  he  found  time  for  meditation,  he 
contrived  to  reconcile   himself  to  the    intended    visit. 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  47 

He  felt  that  it  was  easy  to  secure  the  friendship  of  the 
whole  of  the  Merton  family;  and  that  friendship  might 
be  more  useful  to  him  than  the  neutral  part  adopted  by 
Lady  Vargrave,  He  should,  of  course,  be  invited  to  the 
Rectory;  it  was  much  nearer  London  than  Lady  Var- 
grave's  cottage,  —  he  could  more  often  escape  from 
public  cares  to  superintend  his  private  interests.  A 
country  neighborhood,  particularly  at  that  season  of  the 
year,  was  not  likely  to  abound  in  very  dangerous  rivals. 
Evelyn  would,  he  saw,  be  surrounded  by  a  worldly 
family,  and  he  thought  that  an  advantage;  it  might 
serve  to  dissipate  Evelyn's  romantic  tendencies,  and 
make  her  sensible  of  the  pleasures  of  the  London  life, 
flie  official  rank,  the  gay  society,  that  her  union  with 
aim  would  offer  as  an  equivalent  for  her  fortune.  In 
short,  as  was  his  wont,  he  strove  to  make  the  best  of 
the  new  turn  affairs  had  taken.  Though  guardian  to 
Miss  Cameron,  and  one  of  the  trustees  for  the  fortune 
she  was  to  receive  on  attaining  her  majority,  he  had  not 
the  right  to  dictate  as  to  her  residence.  The  late  lord's 
will  had  expressly  and  pointedly  corroborated  the  natural 
and  lawful  authority  of  Lady  Vargrave  in  all  matters 
connected  with  Evelyn's  education  and  home.  It  may 
be  as  well,  in  this  place,  to  add,  that  to  Vargrave  and 
the  co-trustee,  Mr.  Gustavus  Douce,  a  banker  of  repute 
and  eminence,  the  testator  left  large  discretionary  powers 
as  to  the  investment  of  the  fortune.  He  had  stated  it 
as  his  wish  that  from  one  hundred  and  twenty  to  one 
hundred  and  thirty  thousand  pounds  should  be  invested 
in  the  purchase  of  a  landed  estate ;  but  he  had  left  it  to 
the  discretion  of  the  trustees  to  increase  that  sum,  even 
to  the  amount  of  the  whole  capital,  should  an  estate  of 
adequate  importance  be  in  the  market;  while  the  selec- 
tion of  time  and  purchase  was  unreservedly  confided  to 


48  ALICE;   Oil.   THE   MYSTERIES. 

the  trustees.  Vargrave  had  hitherto  objected  to  every 
purchase  in  the  market:  not  that  he  was  insensible  to 
the  importance  and  consideration  of  landed  property, 
but  because,  till  he  himself  became  the  legal  receiver 
of  the  income,  he  thought  it  less  trouble  to  suffer  the 
money  to  lie  in  the  funds  than  to  be  pestered  with  all 
the  onerous  details  in  the  management  of  an  estate  that 
might  never  be  his.  He,  however,  with  no  less  ardor 
than  his  deceased  relative,  looked  forward  to  the  time 
when  the  title  of  Vargrave  should  be  based  upon  the 
venerable  foundation  of  feudal  manors  and  seignorial 
acres. 

"  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  Lord  Vargrave  was 
so  charming?"  said  Caroline  to  Evelyn,  as  the  two 
girls  were  sauntering,  in  familiar  tete-a-tete,  along  the 
gardens.  "  You  will  be  very  happy  with  such  a 
companion." 

Evelyn  made  no  answer  for  a  few  moments,  and  then, 
turning  abruptly  round  to  Caroline,  and  stopping  short, 
she  said,  with  a  kind  of  tearful  eagerness,  "  Dear  Caro- 
line, you  are  so  wise,  so  kind  too:  advise  me,  — tell  me 
what  is  best.     I  am  very  unhappy." 

Miss  Merton  was  moved  and  surprised  by  Evelyn's 
earnestness. 

"  But  what  is  it,  my  poor  Evelyn  ?  "  said  she.  "  Why 
are  you  unhappy  1  —  you  wliose  fate  seems  to  me  so 
enviable." 

"  I  cannot  love  Lord  Vargrave ;  I  recoil  from  the  idea 
of  marrying  him.  Ought  I  not  fairly  to  tell  him  so? 
Ought  I  not  to  say  that  I  cannot  fulfil  the  wish  that  — 
oh,  there  's  the  thought  which  leaves  me  so  irresolute! 
—  his  uncle  bequeathed  to  me,  me  who  have  no  claim 
of  relationship,  the  fortune  that  should  have  been 
Lord  Vargrave's,   in    the  belief   that  my  hand   would 


ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  49 

restore  it  to  him.     It  is  almost  a  fraud  to  refuse  him. 
Am  I  not  to  be  pitied  1  " 

"  But  why  can  you  not  love  Lord  Vargrave  ?  If  past 
the  premiere  jeunesse,  he  is  still  handsome,  —  he  is 
more  than  handsome :  he  has  the  air  of  rank ,  an  eye 
that  fascinates,  a  smile  that  wins,  the  manners  that 
please,  the  abilities  that  command  —  the  world!  Hand- 
some, clever,  admired,  distinguished,  —  what  can  woman 
desire  more  in  her  lover,  her  husband?  Have  you 
ever  formed  some  fancy,  some  ideal,  of  the  one  you 
could  love,  and  how  does  Lord  Vargrave  fall  short  of 
the  vision  1  " 

"Have  I  ever  formed  an  ideal?  —  oh,  yes!"  said 
Evelyn,  with  a  beautiful  enthusiasm  that  lighted  up 
her  eyes,  blushed  in  her  cheek,  and  heaved  her  bosom 
beneath  its  robe :  "  something  that  in  loving  I  could 
also  revere ;  a  mind  that  would  elevate  my  own ;  a  heart 
that  could  sympathize  with  my  weakness,  my  follies, 
my  romance,  if  you  will;  and  in  which  I  could  treasure 
my  whole  soul." 

"You  paint  a  schoolmaster,  not  a  lover!  "  said  Caro- 
line. "  You  do  not  care,  then,  whether  this  hero  be 
handsome  or  young  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes;  he  should  be  both,"  said  Evelyn,  inno- 
cently; "and  yet,"  she  added,  after  a  pause,  and  with 
an  infantine  playfulness  of  manner  and  countenance, 
"  I  know  you  will  laugh  at  me;  but  I  think  I  could  be 
in  love  with  more  than  one  at  the  same  time!  " 

"  A  common  case,  but  a  rare  confession!  " 

"  Yes ;  for  if  I  might  ask  for  the  youth  and  outward 
advantages  that  please  the  eye,  I  could  also  love  with  a 
yet  deeper  love  that  which  would  speak  to  my  imagi- 
nation, —  intellect,  genius,  fame!  Ah,  these  have  an 
immortal  youth  and  imperishable  beauty  of  their  own!  " 

4 


50  ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

"  You  are  a  very  strange  girl." 

"  But  we  are  on  a  very  strange  subject,  —  it  is  all  an 
enigma!  "  said  Evelyn,  shaking  her  Avise  little  head 
with  a  pretty  gravity,  half  mock,  half  real.  "  Ah,  if 
Lord  Vargrave  should  love  you,  and  you,  —  oh,  you 
would  love  him,  and  then  I  should  be  free,  and  so 
happy !  " 

They  were  then  on  the  lawn  in  sight  of  the  cottage 
windows,  and  Lumley,  lifting  his  eyes  from  the  news- 
paper, which  had  just  arrived  and  been  seized  with  all 
a  politician's  avidity,  saw  them  in  the  distance.  He 
threw  down  the  paper,  mused  a  moment  or  two,  then 
took  up  his  hat  and  joined  them;  but  before  he  did  so, 
he  surveyed  himself  in  the  glass.  "  I  think  1  look 
young  enough  still,"  thought  he. 

"  Two  cherries  on  one  stalk,"  said  Lumley ,  gay ly :  "  by 
the  bye,  it  is  not  a  complimentary  simile.  What  young 
lady  would  be  like  a  cherry  1  —  such  an  uninteresting, 
common,  charity-boy  sort  of  fruit.  For  my  part,  1 
always  associate  cherries  with  the  image  of  a  young 
gentleman  in  corduroys  and  a  skeleton  jacket,  with  one 
pocket  full  of  marbles,  and  the  other  full  of  worms  for 
fishing,  with  three-halfpence  in  the  left  paw,  and  two 
cherries  on  one  stalk  (Helena  and  Hermia)  in  the 
right." 

"  How  droll  you  are!  "  said  Caroline,  laughing. 

"  Much  obliged  to  you,  and  don't  envy  your  discrimi- 
nation,—  'melancholy  marks  me  for  its  own.'  You 
ladies,  —  ah,  yours  is  the  life  for  gay  spirits  and  light 
hearts;  to  us  are  left  business  and  politics,  law,  physic, 
and  murder  by  way  of  professions,  —  abuse,  nick- 
named fame;  and  the  privilege  of  seeing  how  universal 
a  thing,  among  the  great  and  the  wealthy,  is  that 
pleasant  vice,  beggary;  which  privilege  is  proudly  en- 


ALICE  ;  OR,  THE  MYSTERIES.  51 

titled,  *  patronage  and  power.*  Are  we  the  things  to  he 
gay,  —  *  droll,'  as  you  sayl  Oh,  no;  all  our  spirits  are 
forced,  believe  me.  Miss  Cameron,  did  you  ever  know 
that  wretched  species  of  hysterical  affection  called 
'  forced  spirits  '  1  Never,  I  am  sure ;  your  ingenuous 
smile,  your  laughing  eyes,  are  the  index  to  a  happy 
and  a  sanguine  heart." 

"And  what  of  me?"  asked  Caroline,  quickly,  and 
with  a  slight  blush. 

"  You,  Miss  Merton?  Ah,  I  have  not  yet  read  your 
character,  —  a  fair  page,  but  an  unknown  letter.  You, 
however,  have  seen  the  world,  and  know  that  we  must 
occasionally  wear  a  mask."  Lord  Vargrave  sighed  as 
he  spoke,  and  relapsed  into  sudden  silence;  then,  look- 
ing up,  his  eyes  encountered  Caroline's,  which  were 
fixed  upon  him-,  their  gaze  flattered  him.  Caroline 
turned  away,  and  busied  herself  with  a  rosebush.  Lum- 
ley  gathered  one  of  the  flowers,  and  presented  it  to  her. 
Evelyn  was  a  few  steps  in  advance. 

"  There  is  no  thorn  in  this  rose,"  said  he:  "may  the 
oflering  be  an  omen ;  you  are  now  Evelyn's  friend,  — 
oh,  be  mine;  she  is  to  be  your  guest.  Do  not  scorn  to 
plead  for  me." 

"Can  you  want  a  pleader?"  said  Caroline,  with  a 
slight  tremor  in  her  voice. 

"  Charming  ]\Iiss  Merton,  love  is  diffident  and  fear- 
ful; but  it  must  now  find  a  voice,  to  which  may  Evelyn 
benignly  listen.  What  I  leave  unsaid,  would  that  my 
new  friend's  eloquence  could  supply." 

He  bowed  slightly,  and  joined  Evelyn.  Caroline 
understood  the  hint,  and  returned  alone  and  thought- 
fully to  the  house. 

"Miss  Cameron,  —  Evelyn,  —  ah,  still  let  me  call 
you  so,  as  in  the  happy  and  more  familiar  days  of  your 


52  ALICE;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES. 

childhood.  I  wish  you  could  read  my  heart  at  this 
moment.  You  are  about  to  leave  your  home ;  new  scenes 
will  surround,  new  faces  smile  on  you;  dare  I  hope  that 
I  may  still  be  remembered  1  " 

He  attempted  to  take  her  hand  as  he  spoke ;  Evelyn 
withdrew  it  gently. 

"  Ah,  my  lord,"  said  she,  in  a  very  low  voice,  "  if 
remembrance  were  all  that  you  asked  of  me  —  " 

"  It  is  all :  favorable  remembrance,  remembrance  of  the 
love  of  the  past,  remembrance  of  the  bond  to  come." 

Evelyn  shivered.  "  It  is  better  to  speak  openly," 
said  she ;  "  let  me  throw  myself  on  your  generosity.  I 
am  not  insensible  to  your  brilliant  qualities,  to  the 
honor  of  your  attachment ;  but  —  but  —  as  the  time  ap- 
proaches in  which  you  will  call  for  my  decision,  let  me 
now  say  that  I  cannot  feel  for  you  —  those  —  those 
sentiments  without  which  you  could  not  desire  our 
union,  without  which  it  were  but  a  wrong  to  both  of 
us  to  form  it.  Xay,  listen  to  me:  I  grieve  bitterly  at 
the  tenor  of  your  too-generous  uncle's  will;  can  I  not 
atone  to  you  ?  Willingly  would  I  sacrifice  the  fortune 
that,  indeed,  ought  to  be  yours;  accept  it,  and  remain 
my  friend." 

"  Cruel  Evelyn!  and  can  you  suppose  that  it  is  your 
fortune  I  seek?  It  is  yourself.  Heaven  is  my  witness 
that  had  you  no  dowry  but  your  hand  and  heart,  it  were 
treasure  enough  to  me.  You  think  you  cannot  love  me. 
Evelyn,  you  do  not  yet  know  yourself.  Alas!  your 
retirement  in  this  distant  village;  my  own  unceasing 
avocations,  which  chain  me,  like  a  slave,  to  the  galley- 
oar  of  politics  and  power,  —  have  kept  us  separate.  You 
do  not  know  me.  I  am  willing  to  hazard  the  experiment 
of  that  knowledge.  To  devote  my  life  to  you;  to  make 
you  partaker  of  my  ambition,  my  career;  to  raise  you 


ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  53 

to  the  highest  eminence  in  the  matronage  of  England ; 
to  transfer  pride  from  myself  to  you;  to  love  and  to 
honor  and  to  prize  you,  —  all  this  will  be  my  boast; 
and  all  this  will  win  love  for  me  at  last.  Fear  not, 
Evelyn,  —  fear  not  for  your  happiness;  with  me  you 
shall  know  no  sorrow.  Affection  at  home,  splendor 
abroad,  await  you.  I  have  passed  the  rough  and  ardu- 
ous part  of  my  career:  sunshine  lies  on  the  summit  to 
which  I  climb.  No  station  in  England  is  too  high  for 
me  to  aspire  to,  —  prospects,  how  bright  with  you ! 
DOW  dark  without  you!  Ah,  Evelyn!  be  this  hand 
Tnine ;  the  heart  shall  follow !  " 

Vargrave's  words  were  artful  and  eloquent;  the  words 
were  calculated  to  win  their  way,  but  the  manner,  the 
tone  of  voice,  wanted  earnestness  and  truth.  This  was 
his  defect;  this  characterized  all  his  attempts  to  seduce 
or  to  lead  others,  in  public  or  in  private  life.  He  had 
no  heart,  no  deep  passion,  in  what  he  undertook.  He 
could  impress  you  with  the  conviction  of  his  ability, 
and  leave  the  conviction  imperfect,  because  he  could 
not  convince  you  that  he  was  sincere.  That  best  gift 
of  mental  power,  earnestness,  was  wanting  to  him;  and 
Lord  Vargrave's  deficiency  of  heart  was  the  true  cause 
why  he  was  not  a  great  man.  Still,  Evelyn  was  af- 
fected by  his  words;  she  suffered  the  hand  he  now 
once  more  took  to  remain  passively  in  his,  and  said 
timidly,  — 

"  Why,  with  sentiments  so  generous  and  confiding,  — 
why  do  you  love  me,  who  cannot  return  your  affection 
worthily?  No,  Lord  Vargrave;  there  are  many  who 
must  see  you  with  juster  eyes  than  mine,  —  many  fairer, 
and  even  wealthier.  Indeed  —  indeed,  it  cannot  be. 
Do  not  be  ofi'ended,  but  think  that  the  fortune  left  to 
me  was  on  one  condition  I  cannot,  ought  not  to  fulfil. 


54  ALICE  ;   OR,  THE  MYSTERIES. 

Failing  that  condition,  in  equity  and  honor  it  reverts 
to  you." 

"  Talk  not  thus,  I  implore  you,  Evelyn :  do  not  im- 
agine me  the  worldly  calculator  that  my  enemies  deem 
me.  But,  to  remove  at  once  from  your  mind  the  pos- 
sibility of  such  a  compromise  between  your  honor  and 
repugnance  (repugnance!  have  I  lived  to  say  that 
word?),  know  that  your  fortune  is  not  at  your  own 
disposal.  Save  the  small  forfeit  that  awaits  your  non- 
compliance with  my  uncle's  dying  prayer,  the  whole  is 
settled  peremptorily  on  yourself  and  your  children;  it 
is  entailed,  —  you  cannot  alienate  it.  Thus,  then,  your 
generosity  can  never  be  evinced  but  to  him  on  whom 
you  bestow  your  hand.  Ah!  let  me  recall  that  melan- 
choly scene.  Your  benefactor  on  his  death-bed,  your 
mother  kneeling  by  his  side,  your  hand  clasped  in  mine, 
and  those  lips,  with  their  latest  breath,  uttering  at 
once  a  blessing  and  a  command!" 

"  Ah,  cease,  —  cease,  my  lord!  "  said  Evelyn,  sobbing. 

"  No ;  bid  me  not  cease  before  you  tell  me  you  will 
be  m.ine.  Beloved  Evelyn!  I  may  hope;  you  will 
not  resolve  against  me." 

"No,"  said  Evelyn,  raising  her  eyes  and  struggling 
for  composure,  "  I  feel  too  Avell  what  should  be  my  duty : 
I  will  endeavor  to  perform  it.  Ask  me  no  more  now; 
I  will  struggle  to  answer  you  as  you  wish  hereafter." 

Xiord  Vargrave,  resolved  to  push  to  the  utmost  the 
advantage  he  had  gained,  Avas  about  to  reply,  when  he 
heard  a  step  behind  him,  and  turning  round,  quickly 
and  discomposed,  beheld  a  venerable  form  approaching 
them.  The  occasion  was  lost;  Evelyn  also  turned, 
and  seeing  who  was  the  intruder,  sprang  towards  him 
almost  with  a  cry  of  joy. 

The  new-comer  was  a  man  who  had  passed  his  seven* 


ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  55 

tieth  year;  but  his  old  age  was  green,  his  step  light,  and 
on  his  healthful  and  benignant  countenance  time  had 
left  but  few  furrows.  He  was  clothed  in  black;  and 
his  locks,  which  were  white  as  snow,  escaped  from  the 
broad  hat,  and  almost  touched  his  shoulders. 

The  old  man  smiled  upon  Evelyn,  and  kissed  her 
forehead  fondly.  He  then  turned  to  Lord  Vargrave, 
who,  recovering  his  customary  self-possession,  advanced 
to  meet  him  with  extended  hand. 

"My  dear  Mr.  Aubrey,  this  is  a  welcome  surprise. 
I  heard  you  were  not  at  the  vicarage,  or  I  would  have 
called  on  you." 

"  Your  lordship  honors  me,"  replied  the  curate.  "  For 
the  first  time  for  thirty  years  I  have  been  thus  long 
absent  from  my  cure;  but  I  am  now  returned,  I  hope, 
to  end  my  days  among  my  flock." 

"  And  what,"  asked  Vargrave,  —  "  what  —  if  the  ques- 
tion be  not  presumptuous  —  occasioned  your  unwilling 
absence  1  " 

"  My  lord,"  replied  the  old  man,  with  a  gentle  smile, 
"  a  new  vicar  has  been  appointed.  I  went  to  him  to 
proffer  an  humble  prayer  that  I  might  remain  amongst 
those  whom  I  regarded  as  my  children.  I  have  buried 
one  generation;  I  have  married  another;  I  have  bap- 
tized a  third." 

"  You  should  have  had  the  vicarage  itself;  you  should 
be  better  provided  for,  my  dear  Mr.  Aubrey.  I  will 
speak  to  the  Lord  Chancellor." 

Five  times  before  had  Lord  Vargrave  uttered  the  same 
promise;  and  the  curate  smiled  to  hear  the  familiar 
words. 

"  The  vicarage,  my  lord,  is  a  family  living,  and  is 
now  vested  in  a  young  man  who  requires  wealth  more 
than  I  do.     He  has  been  kind  to  me,  and  re-established 


56  ALICE  •   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

me  among  my  flock ;  I  would  not  leave  them  for  a  bish- 
opric. j\Iy  child,"  continued  the  curate,  addressing 
Evelyn  with  great  affection,  "you  are  surely  unwell, — 
you  are  paler  than  when  I  left  you." 

Evelyn  clung  fondly  to  his  arm,  and  smiled, — her 
old  gay  smile,  —  as  she  replied  to  him.  They  took  the 
way  towards  the  house. 

The  curate  remained  with  them  for  an  hour.  There 
Avas  a  mingled  sweetness  and  dignity  in  his  manner 
which  had  in  it  something  of  the  primitive  character  we 
poetically  ascribe  to  the  pastors  of  the  church.  Lady 
Vargrave  seemed  to  vie  with  Evelyn  which  should  love 
him  the  most.  When  he  retired  to  his  home,  which 
was  not  many  yards  distant  from  the  cottage,  Evelyn, 
pleading  a  headache,  sought  her  chamber,  and  Lumley, 
to  soothe  his  mortification,  turned  to  Caroline,  who  had 
seated  herself  by  his  side.  Her  conversation  amused 
him,  and  her  evident  admiration  flattered.  While  Lady 
Vargrave  absented  herself  in  motherly  anxiety,  to  at- 
tend on  Evelyn ;  while  Mrs.  Leslie  was  occupied  at  her 
frame;  and  Mrs.  Merton  looked  on,  and  talked  in- 
dolently to  the  old  lady  of  rheumatism  and  sermons, 
of  children's  complaints  and  servants'  misdemeanors,  — 
the  conversation  between  Lord  Vargrave  and  Caroline, 
at  first  gay  and  animated,  grew  gradually  more  senti- 
mental and  subdued:  their  voices  took  a  lower  tone,  and 
Caroline  sometimes  turned  away  her  head  and  blushed. 


ALICE  ;  OU,   THE   MYSTERIES.  57 


CHAPTER  XI. 

There  stands  the  Messenger  of  Truth,  —  there  stands 
The  Legate  of  the  iSkies. 

COWPER. 

From  that  night  Tjumley  found  no  opportunity  for  pri- 
vate conversation  with  Evelyn.  She  evidently  shunned 
to  meet  with  him  alone ;  she  was  ever  with  her  mother 
or  Mrs.  Leslie  or  the  good  curate,  who  spent  much  of 
his  time  at  the  cottage,  for  the  old  man  had  neither 
Avife  nor  children;  he  was  alone  at  home,  —  he  had 
learned  to  make  his  home  with  the  widow  and  her 
daughter.  With  them  he  was  an  object  of  the  tenderest 
affection,  —  of  the  deepest  veneration.  Their  love  de- 
lighted him,  and  he  returned  it  with  the  fondness  of  a 
parent  and  the  benevolence  of  a  pastor.  He  was  a  rare 
character,  that  village  priest! 

Born  of  humble  parentage,  Edward  Aubrey  had  early 
displayed  abilities  which  attracted  the  notice  of  a 
wealthy  proprietor,  who  was  not  displeased  to  affect  the 
patron.  Young  Aubrey  was  sent  to  school,  and  thence 
to  college  as  a  sizar;  he  obtained  several  prizes,  and  took 
a  high  degree.  Aubrey  was  not  without  the  ambition 
and  the  passions  of  youth;  he  went  into  the  world,  ar- 
dent, inexperienced,  and  without  a  guide.  He  drew 
back  before  errors  grew  into  crimes,  or  folly  became  a 
habit.  It  was  nature  and  affection  that  reclaimed  and 
saved  him  from  either  alternative,  —  fame  or  ruin.  His 
widowed  mother  was  suddenly  stricken  with  disease. 
Blind  and    bed-ridden,  her  whole   dependence  was  on 


58  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

her  only  son.  This  affliction  called  forth  a  new  charac- 
ter in  Edward  Aubrey.  This  mother  had  stripped  herself 
of  so  many  comforts  to  provide  for  him,  —  he  devoted  his 
youth  to  her  in  return.  She  was  now  old  and  imbecile. 
With  the  mingled  selfishness  and  sentiment  of  age,  she 
Avould  not  come  to  London ;  she  would  not  move  from 
the  village  where  her  husband  lay  buried,  where  her 
youth  had  been  spent.  In  this  village  the  able  and 
ambitious  young  man  buried  his  hopes  and  his  talents ; 
by  degrees  the  quiet  and  tranquillity  of  the  country  life 
became  dear  to  him.  As  steps  in  a  ladder,  so  piety 
leads  to  piety,  and  religion  grew  to  him  a  habit.  He 
took  orders  and  entered  the  church.  A  disappointment 
in  love  ensued ;  it  left  on  his  mind  and  heart  a  sober 
and  resigned  melancholy,  which  at  length  mellowed  into 
content.  His  profession  and  its  sweet  duties  became 
more  and  more  dear  to  him ;  in  the  hopes  of  the  next 
world  he  forgot  the  ambition  of  the  present.  He  did 
not  seek  to  shine,  — 

"  More  skilled  to  raise  the  wretched  than  to  rise." 

His  own  birth  made  the  poor  his  brothers,  and  their 
dispositions  and  wants  familiar  to  him.  His  own  early 
errors  made  him  tolerant  to  the  faults  of  others;  few 
men  are  charitable  who  remember  not  that  they  have 
sinned.  In  our  faults  lie  the  germs  of  virtues.  Thus 
gradually  and  serenely  had  worn  away  his  life,  obscure 
but  useful,  calm  but  active,  —  a  man  whom  "the  great 
prizes  "  of  the  church  might  have  rendered  an  ambitious 
schemer;  to  whom  a  modest  confidence  gave  the  true 
pastoral  power,  — to  conquer  the  world  Avithin  himself, 
and  to  sympathize  with  tlie  wants  of  others.  Yes,  he 
was  a  rare  character,  that  village  priest! 


ALICE  ;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

Tout  notre  raisonnement  se  reduit  a  cccler  au  sentiment.^  —  Pascal 

Lord  Vargrave  who  had  no  desire  to  remain  alone 
witli  the  Avidow  when  the  guests  were  gone,  arranged 
his  departure  for  the  same  day  as  that  fixed  for  Mrs. 
Merton's;    and  as    their    road    lay    together  for  several 

miles,  it  was  settled  that  they  should  all  dine  at , 

whence  Lord  Vargrave  would  proceed  to  London. 
Failing  to  procure  a  second  chance  interview  with 
Evelyn,  and  afraid  to  demand,  a  formal  one, — for  he 
felt  the  insecurity  of  the  ground  he  stood  on,  —  Lord 
Vargrave,  irritated  and  somewhat  mortified,  sought,  as 
was  his  habit,  whatever  amusement  was  in  his  reach. 
In  the  conversation  of  Caroline  Merton,  —  shrewd, 
worldly,  and  ambitious,  —  he  found  the  sort  of  plaything 
that  he  desired.  They  were  thrown  much  together; 
but  to  Vargrave,  at  least,  there  appeared  no  danger  in 
the  intercourse;  and  perhaps  his  chief  object  was  to 
pique  Evelyn,  as  well  as  to  gratify  his  own  spleen. 

It  was  the  evening  before  Evelyn's  departure:  the 
little  party  had.  been  for  the  last  hour  dispersed.  Mrs. 
Merton  was  in  her  own  room,  making  to  herself  gratui- 
tous and  unnecessary  occupation  in  seeing  her  woman 
pack  up.  It  was  just  the  kind  of  task  that  delighted 
her.  To  sit  in  a  large  chair,  and  see  somebody  else  at 
work;  to  say  languidly,  "Don't  crumple  that  scarf, 
Jane  ;  and  where  shall  we  put  Miss  Caroline's  blue 
bonnet  1  "  —  gave  her  a  very  comfortable  notion  of  her 

1  AU  our  reasoning  reduces  itself  to  yielding  to  sentiment. 


60  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

own  importance  and  habits  of  biisiness:  a  sort  of  title 
to  be  the  superintendent  of  a  family  and  the  wife  of  a 
rector.  Caroline  had  disappeared,  —  so  had  Lord  Var- 
grave.  But  the  first  was  supposed  to  be  with  Evelyn; 
the  second,  employed  in  writing  letters,  — at  least,  it  was 
so  when  they  had  been  last  observed.  Mrs.  Leslie  was 
alone  in  the  drawing-room,  and  absorbed  in  anxious 
and  benevolent  thoughts  on  the  critical  situation  of  her 
young  favorite,  about  to  enter  an  age  and  a  world  the 
perils  of  which  Mrs.  Leslie  had  not  forgotten. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  Evelyn,  forgetful  of  Lord 
Vargrave  and  his  suit,  of  every  one,  of  everything  but 
the  grief  of  the  approaching  departure,  found  herself 
alone  in  a  little  arbor,  that  had  been  built  upon  the 
cliff  to  command  the  view  of  the  sea  below.  That  day 
she  had  been  restless,  perturbed ;  she  had  visited  every 
spot  consecrated  by  youthful  recollections;  she  had  clung 
with  fond  regret  to  every  place  in  which  she  had  held 
sweet  converse  with  her  mother.  Of  a  disposition 
singularly  warm  and  affectionate,  she  had  often,  in  her 
secret  heart,  pined  for  a  more  yearning  and  enthusiastic 
love  than  it  seemed  in  the  subdued  nature  of  Lady 
Vargrave  to  bestow.  In  the  affection  of  the  latter,  gen- 
tle and  never-fluctuating  as  it  was,  there  seemed  to  her 
a  something  wanting,  which  she  could  not  define.  She 
had  watched  that  beloved  face  all  the  morning.  She 
had  hoped  to  see  the  tender  eyes  fixed  upon  her,  and 
hear  the  meek  voice  exclaim,  "  I  cannot  part  with  my 
child !  "  All  the  gay  pictures  which  the  light-hearted 
Caroline  drew  of  the  scenes  she  was  to  enter,  had  van- 
ished away,  now  that  the  hour  approached  when  her 
mother  was  to  be  left  alone.  Why  was  she  to  go  ?  It 
seemed  to  her  an  unnecessary  cruelty. 

As  she  thus  sat,  she  did  not  observe  that  Mr.  Aubrey, 


ALICE;  OR,  THE  MYSTERIES.  61 

who  had  seen  her  at  a  distance,  was  now  bending  his  way 
to  her;  and  not  till  he  had  entered  the  arbor  and  taken 
her  hand,  did  she  waken  from  those  reveries  in  which 
youth,  the  dreamer  and  the  desirer,  so  morbidly  indulges, 

"Tears,  my  child,"  said  the  curate, — "nay,  be  not 
ashamed  of  them ;  they  become  you  in  this  hour.  How 
we  shall  miss  you!  and  you,  too,  will  not  forget  us!  " 

"Forget  you!  Ah,  no,  indeed!  But  why  should  I 
leave  you  ?  Why  will  you  not  speak  to  my  mother,  — 
implore  her  to  let  me  remain  ?  We  were  so  happy  till 
these  strangers  came.  We  did  not  think  there  was  any 
other  world;  here  there  is  world  enough  for  me!  " 

"My  poor  Evelyn,"  said  Mr.  Aubrey,  gently,  "I 
have  spoken  to  your  mother  and  to  Mrs.  Leslie;  they 
have  confided  to  me  all  the  reasons  for  your  departure, 
and  I  cannot  but  subscribe  to  their  justice.  You  do  not 
want  many  months  of  the  age  when  you  will  be  called 
upon  to  decide  whether  Lord  Vargrave  shall  be  your 
husband.  Your  mother  shrinks  from  the  responsibility 
of  influencing  your  decision;  and  here,  my  child,  inex- 
perienced, and  having  seen  so  little  of  others,  how  can 
you  know  your  own  heart  ?  " 

"But,  oh,  Mr.  Aubrey,"  said  Evelyn,  with  an  earn- 
estness that  overcame  embarrassment,  "  have  I  a  choice 
left  to  me?  Can  I  be  ungrateful,  disobedient  to  him 
who  was  a  father  to  me  ]  Ought  I  not  to  sacrifice  my 
own  happiness?  And  how  willingly  would  I  do  so  if 
my  mother  would  smile  on  me  approvingly !  " 

"  My  child,"  said  the  curate,  gravely,  "  an  old  man  is 
a  bad  judge  of  the  affairs  of  youth;  yet  in  this  matter 
I  think  your  duty  plain.  Do  not  resolutely  set  yourself 
against  Lord  Vargrave's  claim,  —  do  not  persuade  your- 
self that  you  must  be  imhappy  in  a  union  with  him. 
Compose  your  mind;  think  seriously  upon   the    choice 


62  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

before  yon;  refuse  all  decision  at  the  present  moment, 
—  wait  until  the  appointed  time  arrives,  or,  at  least, 
more  nearly  approaches.  ^leanwhile,  I  understand, 
that  Lord  Vargrave  is  to  be  a  frequent  visitor  at  Mrs. 
Merton's;  there  you  will  see  him  with  others.  His  char- 
acter will  show  itself,  —  study  his  principles,  his  dispo- 
sition; examine  whether  he  is  one  whom  you  can  esteem 
and  render  happy.  There  may  be  a  love  without  enthu- 
siasm, and  yet  sufficient  for  domestic  felicity,  and  for 
the  employment  of  the  affections.  You  will  insen- 
sibly, too,  learn  from  other  parts  of  his  character  which 
he  does  not  exhibit  to  us.  If  the  result  of  time  and  ex- 
amination be  that  you  can  cheerfully  obey  the  late 
lord's  dying  wish,  unquestionably  it  will  be  the  hap- 
pier decision.  If  not,  —  if  you  still  shrink  from  vows 
at  which  your  heart  now  rebels, — as  unquestionably 
you  may,  with  an  acquitted  conscience,  become  free. 
The  best  of  us  are  imperfect  judges  of  the  happiness  of 
others.  In  the  woe  or  weal  of  a  whole  life,  we  must 
decide  for  ourselves.  Your  benefactor  could  not  mean, 
you  to  be  wretched;  and  if  he  now,  with  eyes  purified 
from  all  worldly  mists,  look  down  upon  you,  his  spirit 
will  approve  your  choice.  For  when  we  quit  the 
world,  all  worldly  ambition  dies  with  us.  What  now 
to  the  immortal  soul  can  be  the  title  and  the  rank  which 
on  earth,  with  the  desires  of  earth,  your  benefactor  hoped 
to  secure  to  his  adopted  child?  This  is  my  advice.  Look 
on  the  bright  side  of  things,  and  wait  calmly  for  the 
hour  when  Lord  Vargrave  can  demand  your  decision. " 

The  words  of  the  priest,  which  well  defined  her  duty, 
inexpressibly  soothed  and  comforted  Evelyn;  and  the 
advice  upon  other  and  higher  matters,  which  the  good 
man  pressed  upon  a  mind  so  softened  at  that  hour  to  re- 
ceive religious  impressions,  was  received  with  gratitude 


ALICE  ;  OR,  THE  MYSTERIES.  63 

and  respect.  Subsequently  their  conversation  fell  upon 
Lady  Vargrave,  —  a  theme  dear  to  both  of  them.  The 
old  man  was  greatly  touched  by  the  poor  girl's  unselfish 
anxiety  for  her  mother's  comfort,  — by  her  fears  that  she 
might  be  missed  in  those  little  attentions  which  filial 
love  alone  can  render;  he  was  almost  yet  more  touclied 
when,  with  a  less  disinterested  feeling,  Evelyn  added 
mournfully,  — 

"Yet  why,  after  all,  should  I  fancy  she  will  so 
miss  me?  Ah,  though  I  will  not  dare  complain  of  it, 
I  feel  still  that  she  does  not  love  me  as  I  love  her. " 

"Evelyn,"  said  the  curate,  with  mild  reproach, 
"  have  I  not  said  that  your  mother  has  known  sorrow  ? 
And  though  sorrow  does  not  annihilate  affection,  it  sub- 
dues its  expression,  and  moderates  its  outward  signs. " 

Evelyn  sighed,  and  said  no  more. 

As  the  good  old  man  and  his  young  friend  returned 
to  the  cottage,  Lord  Vargrave  and  Caroline  approached 
them,  emerging  from  an  opposite  part  of  the  grounds. 
The  former  hastened  to  Evelyn  with  his  usual  gayety 
and  frank  address;  and  there  was  so  much  charm  in  the 
manner  of  a  man  whom  apparently  the  world  and  its 
cares  had  never  rendered  artificial  or  reserved,  that  the 
curate  himself  was  impressed  by  it.  He  thought  that 
Evelyn  might  be  happy  with  one  amiable  enough  for  a 
companion  and  wise  enough  for  a  guide.  But,  old  as 
he  was,  he  had  loved,  and  he  knew  that  there  are  instincts 
in  the  heart  which  defy  all  our  calculations. 

While  Lumley  was  conversing,  the  little  gate  that 
made  the  communication  between  the  gardens  and  the 
neighboring  churchyard,  through  which  was  the  nearest 
access  to  the  village,  creaked  on  its  hinges,  and  the  quiet 
and  solitary  figure  of  Lady  Vargrave  threw  its  shadow 
over  the  grass. 


f'4  ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

And  I  can  listen  to  thee  yet, 
Can  lie  upon  the  plain,  — 

And  listen  till  I  do  beget 
That  golden  time  again. 


WOBDSWORTH. 


It  was  past  midnight,  —  hostess  and  guests  had  retired 
to  repose,  —  when  Lady  Vargrave's  door  opened  gently. 
The  lady  herself  was  kneeling  at  the  foot  of  the  bed; 
the  moonlight  came  through  the  half-drawn  curtains  of 
the  casement;  and  by  its  ray  her  pale,  calm  features 
looked  paler,  and  yet  more  hushed. 

Evelyn,  for  she  was  the  intruder,  paused  at  the 
threshold  till  her  mother  rose  from  her  devotions,  and 
then  she  threw  herself  on  Lady  Vargrave's  breast,  sob- 
bing as  if  her  heart  would  break,  —  hers  were  the  wild, 
generous,  irresistible  emotions  of  youth.  Lady  Var- 
grave,  perhaps,  had  known  them  once;  at  least,  she 
could  sympathize  with  them  now. 

She  strained  her  child  to  her  bosom;  she  stroked 
back  her  hair,  and  kissed  her  fondly,  and  spoke  to  her 
soothingly. 

"Mother,"  sobbed  Evelyn,  "I  could  not  sleep,  —  I 
could  not  rest.  Bless  me  again,  —  kiss  me  again;  tell 
me  that  you  love  me !  You  cannot  love  me  as  I  do  you ; 
but  tell  me  that  I  am  dear  to  you,  —  tell  me  you  will 
regret  me,  but  not  too  much ;  tell  me  —  "  Here  Evelyn 
paused,  and  could  say  no  more. 


ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  65 

"My  best,  my  kindest  Evelyn,"  said  Lady  Vargrave, 
"  there  is  nothing  on  earth  I  love  like  you.  Do  not 
fancy  I  am  ungrateful." 

"  Why  do  you  say  ungrateful  1  —  your  own  child,  — 
your  only  child!  "  And  Evelyn  covered  her  mother's 
face  and  hands  with  passionate  tears  and  kisses. 

At  that  moment,  certain  it  is  that  Lady  Vargrave 's 
heart  reproached  her  with  not  having,  indeed,  loved 
this  sweet  girl  as  she  deserved.  True,  no  mother  was 
more  mild,  more  attentive,  more  fostering,  more  anxious 
for  a  daughter's  welfare;  but  Evelyn  was  right!  —  the 
gushing  fondness,  the  mysterious  entering  into  every 
subtle  thought  and  feeling,  which  should  have  charac- 
terized the  love  of  such  a  mother  to  such  a  child,  had 
been,  to  outward  appearance,  wanting.  Even  in  this 
present  parting  there  had  been  a  prudence,  an  exercise 
of  reasoning,  that  savored  more  of  duty  than  love. 
Lady  Vargrave  felt  all  this  with  remorse;  she  gave 
way  to  emotions  new  to  her,  —  at  least  to  exhibit :  she 
wept  with  Evelyn,  and  returned  her  caresses  with 
almost  equal  fervor.  Perhaps,  too,  she  thought  at 
that  moment  of  what  love  that  warm  nature  was  suscep- 
tible; and  she  trembled  for  her  future  fate.  It  was 
as  a  full  reconciliation  —  that  mournful  hour  —  between 
feelings  on  either  side  which  something  mysterious 
seemed  to  have  checked  before ;  and  that  last  night  the 
mother  and  the  child  did  not  separate, —  the  same  couch 
contained  them;  and  when,  worn  out  with  some  emo- 
tions which  she  could  not  reveal,  Lady  Vargrave  fell 
into  the  sleep  of  exhaustion,  Evelyn's  arm  was  round 
her,  and  Evelyn's  eyes  watched  her  with  pious  and 
anxious  love  as  the  gray  morning  dawned. 

She  left  her  mother  still  sleeping  when  the  sun  rose, 
and  went  silently  down  into  the  dear  room  below,  and 


G6  ALICE;   OR,    THE   MYSTERIES. 

again  busied  herself  in  a  thousand  little  provident  cares, 
which  she  wondered  she  had  forgot  before. 

The  carriages  were  at  the  door  before  the  party  had 
assembled  at  the  melancholy  breakfast  table.  Lord 
Vargrave  was  the  last  to  appear. 

"  I  have  been  like  all  cowards,"  said  he,  seating  him- 
self,—  "  anxious  to  defer  an  evil  as  long  as  possible;  a 
bad  policy,  for  it  increases  the  worst  of  all  pains, —  that 
of  suspense." 

Mrs  Merton  had  iindertaken  the  duties  that  appertain 
to  the  "  hissing  urn. "  "  You  prefer  coffee,  Lord  Var- 
grave ?     Caroline,  my  dear  —  " 

Caroline  passed  the  cup  to  Lord  Vargrave,  who  looked 
at  her  hand  as  he  took  it:  there  was  a  ring  on  one  of 
those  slender  fingers  never  observed  there  before. 
Their  eyes  met,  and  Caroline  colored.  Lord  Vargrave 
turned  to  Evelyn,  who,  pale  as  death,  but  tearless  and 
speechless,  sat  beside  her  mother;  he  attempted  in 
vain  to  draw  her  into  conversation.  Evelyn,  who  de- 
sired to  restrain  her  feelings,  would  not  trust  herself  to 
speak. 

Mrs.  Merton,  ever  undisturbed  and  placid,  continued 
to  talk  on :  to  offer  congratulations  on  the  weather,  —  it 
was  such  a  lovely  day;  and  they  should  be  off  so  early; 
it  would  be  so  well  arranged;  they  should  be  in  such 

good  time  to  dine  at ,  and  then  go  three  stages  after 

dinner;  the  moon  would  be  up. 

"  But,"  said  Lord  Vargrave,  "  as  I  am  to  go  with  you 

as  far  as  ,  where  our  roads  separate,  I  hope  I  am 

not  condemned  to  go  alone,  with  my  red  box,  two 
old  newspapers,  and  the  blue  devils.  Have  pity  on 
me." 

"Perhaps  you  will  take  grandmamma,  then?"  whis- 
pered Caroline,  archly. 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  67 

Lumley  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  replied  in  the 
same  tone,  "Yes,  —  provided  you  keep  to  the  proverb, 
'Les  extrem.ea  se  to7irhent,'  and  the  lovely  grandchild 
accompany  tlie  venerable  grandmamma." 

"  What  would  Evelyn  say  ?  "  retorted  Caroline. 

Lumley  sighed,  and  made  no  answer. 

Mrs.  Merton,  who  had  hung  fire  while  her  daughter 
was  carrying  on  this  "  aside,"  now  put  in. 

"  Suppose  I  and  Caroline  take  your  britska,  and  you 
go  in  our  old  coach  with  Evelyn  and  Mrs.  Leslie?  " 

Lumley  looked  delightedly  at  the  speaker,  and  then 
glanced  at  Evelyn ;  but  Mrs.  Leslie  said  very  gravely, 
"  No,  we  shall  feel  too  much  in  leaving  this  dear  place 
to  be  gay  companions  for  Lord  Vargrave.  We  shall  all 
meet  at  dinner;  or,"  she  added,  after  a  pause,  "  if  this 
be  uncourteous  to  Lord  Vargrave,  suppose  Evelyn  and 
myself  take  his  carriage,  and  he  accompanies  you?  " 

"Agreed,"  said  Mrs.  Merton,  quietly;  "  and  now  I 
will  just  go  and  see  about  the  strawberry-plants  and 
slips,  —  it  was  so  kind  in  you,  dear  Lady  Vargrave,  to 
think  of  them." 

An  hour  had  elapsed,  and  Evelyn  was  gone!  She  had 
left  her  maiden  home ;  she  had  wept  her  last  farewell 
on  her  mother's  bosom ;  the  sound  of  the  carriage-wheels 
had  died  away :  but  still  Lady  Vargrave  lingered  on  the 
threshold,  —  still  she  gazed  on  the  spot  where  the  last 
glimpse  of  Evelyn  had  been  caught.  A  sense  of  dreari- 
ness and  solitude  passed  into  her  soul:  the  very  sun- 
light, the  spring,  the  songs  of  the  birds,  made  loneli- 
ness more  desolate. 

Mechanically,  at  last,  she  moved  away,  and  with  slow 
steps  and  downcast  eyes  passed  through  the  favorite  walk 
that  led  into  the  quiet  burial-ground.  The  gate  closed 
upon  her,  and  now  the  lawn,  the  gardens,  the  haunts  of 


68  ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

Evelyn,  were  solitary  as  the  desert  itself;  but  the  daisy 
opened  to  the  sun,  and  the  bee  murmured  along  the 
blossoms,  not  the  less  blithely  for  the  absence  of  all 
human  life.  In  the  bosom  of  Nature  there  beats  no  heart 
for  man. 


BOOK   II. 


"Etoj  i5\9€,  irepnrXofxffwy  iviavTwv, 
T(fi  01  €TZiK\u}aavTO  dioi  oIk6v5(  vfeaOai 
E»s  'lOdK-qy,  ovS'  (v6a  Tr«pvyfj.evos  ^ev  df6\uv- 

HoM. :  Od.,  lib.  i.  1.  16 

The  hour  arrived  —  years  having  rolled  away  — 
When  his  return  the  Gods  no  more  delay. 
Lo !  Ithaca  the  Fates  award  ;  and  there 
New  trials  meet  the  Wanderer. 


BOOK  11. 


CHAPTER   I. 

There  is  continual  spring  and  harvest  here,  — 

Continual,  both  meeting  at  one  time  • 
For  both  the  boughs  do  laughing  blossoms  bear, 

And  with  fresh  colors  deck  the  wanton  prime ; 
And  eke  at  once  the  heavy  trees  they  climb. 

Which  seem  to  labor  under  their  fruits'  load. 

Spenser  :  The  Garden  of  Adonis. 

Vis  boni 
In  ipsa  inesset  forraa.^ 

Terent. 

Beauty,  thou  art  twice  blessed:  thou  blessest  the  gazer 
and  the  possessor ;  often  at  once  the  effect  and  the  cause 
of  goodness!  A  sweet  disposition,  a  lovely  soul,  an 
affectionate  nature,  will  speak  in  the  eyes,  the  lips, 
the  brow,  and  become  the  cause  of  beauty.  On  the  other 
hand,  they  who  have  a  gift  that  commands  love,  a  key 
that  opens  all  hearts,  are  ordinarily  inclined  to  look  with 
happy  eyes  upon  the  world,  —  to  be  cheerful  and  serene, 
to  hope  and  to  confide.  There  is  more  wisdom  than 
the  vulgar  dream  of  in  our  admiration  of  a  fair  face. 

Evelyn  Cameron  was  beautiful :  a  beauty  that  came 

from  the    heart,  and  went   to  the  heart;   a  beauty  the 

very   spirit  of   which   was   love!     Love   smiled  on  her 

dimpled  lips;  it  reposed  on  her  open  brow;  it  played  in 

^  Even  in  beauty  there  exists  the  power  of  virtue. 


72  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

the  profuse  and  careless  ringlets  of  darkest  yet  sunniest 
auburn,  which  a  breeze  could  lift  from  her  delicate  and 
virgin  cheek.  Love,  in  all  its  tenderness,  in  all  its 
kindness,  its  unsuspecting  truth,  —  love  colored  every 
thought,  murmured  in  her  low  melodious  voice ;  in  all 
its  symmetry  and  glorious  womanhood,  love  swelled 
the  swan-like  neck,  and  moulded  the  rounded  limb. 

She  was  just  the  kind  of  person  that  takes  the  judg- 
ment by  storm:  whether  gay  or  grave,  there  was  so 
charming  and  irresistible  a  grace  about  her.  She 
seemed  bom,  not  only  to  captivate  the  giddy,  but  to 
turn  the  heads  of  the  sage.  Roxalana  was  nothing  to 
her.  How,  in  the  obscure  hamlet  of  Brook-Green,  she 
had  learned  all  the  arts  of  pleasing,  it  is  impossible  to 
say.  In  her  arch  smile,  the  pretty  toss  of  her  head,  the 
half  shyness,  half  freedom,  of  her  winning  ways,  it  was 
as  if  Nature  had  made  her  to  delight  one  heart  and 
torment  all  others. 

Without  being  learned,  the  mind  of  Evelyn  was  cul- 
tivated and  well  informed.  Her  heart  perhaps  helped 
to  instruct  her  understanding ;  for  by  a  kind  of  intuition 
she  could  appreciate  all  that  was  beautiful  and  elevated. 
Her  unvitiated  and  guileless  taste  had  a  logic  of  its  own : 
no  schoolman  had  ever  a  quicker  penetration  into  truth, 
—  no  critic  ever  more  readily  detected  the  meretricious 
and  the  false.  The  book  that  Evelyn  could  admire  was 
sure  to  be  stamped  with  the  impress  of  the  noble,  the 
lovely,  or  the  true! 

But  Evelyn  had  faults, — the  faults  of  her  age;  or 
rather  she  had  tendencies  that  might  conduce  to  error. 
She  was  of  so  generous  a  nature  that  the  very  thought 
of  sacrificing  herself  for  another  had  a  charm.  She 
ever  acted  from  impulse,  —  impulses  pure  and  good,  but 
often  rash  and  imprudent.     She  was  yielding  to  weak- 


ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  73 

ness,  persuaded  into  anything,  so  sensitive  that  even 
a  cold  look  from  one  moderately  liked  cut  her  to  the 
heart;  and  by  the  sympathy  that  accompanies  sensitive- 
ness, no  pain  to  her  was  so  great  as  the  thought  of  giv- 
ing pain  to  another.  Hence  it  was  that  Vargrave  might 
form  reasonable  hopes  of  his  ultimate  success.  It  was  a 
dangerous  constitution  for  happiness!  How  many 
chances  must  combine  to  preserve  to  the  mid-day  of 
characters  like  this,  the  sunshine  of  their  dawn!  The 
butterfly,  that  seems  the  child  of  the  summer  and  the 
flowers,  what  wind  will  not  chill  its  mirth,  —  what 
touch  will  not  brush  away  its  hues  1 


74  ALICE;  OK,   THE   MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER   11. 

These,  on  a  general  survey,  are  the  modes 
Of  pulpit  oratory,  which  agree 
With  uo  unlettered  audience. 

POLWHELE, 

Mrs.  Leslie  had  returned  from  her  visit  to  the  Rectory 
to  her  OAvn  home ;  and  Evelyn  liad  now  been  some  weeks 
at  Mrs.  Merton's.  As  was  natural,  she  had  grown  in 
some  measure  reconciled  and  resigned  to  her  change  of 
abode.  In  fact,  no  sooner  did  she  pass  Mrs.  Merton's 
threshold  than,  for  the  first  time,  she  was  made  aware 
of  her  consequence  in  life. 

The  Reverend  Mr.  Merton  was  a  man  of  the  nicest 
perception  in  all  things  appertaining  to  worldly  consid- 
eration :  the  second  son  of  a  very  wealthy  baronet  (who 
was  the  first  commoner  of  Ins  county)  and  of  the 
daughter  of  a  rich  and  highly  descended  peer,  Mr.  Mer- 
ton had  been  brought  near  enough  to  rank  and  power 
to  appreciate  all  their  advantages.  In  early  life  he  had 
been  something  of  a  "tuft-hunter;"  but  as  his  under- 
standing was  good,  and  his  passions  not  very  strong,  he 
had  soon  perceived  that  that  vessel  of  clay,  a  young  man 
with  a  moderate  fortune,  cannot  long  sail  down  the  same 
stream  with  the  metal  vessels  of  rich  earls  and  extrava- 
gant dandies.  Besides,  he  was  destined  for  the  church, 
—  because  there  was  one  of  the  finest  livings  in  England 
in  the  family.  He  therefore  took  orders  at  six-and- 
twenty,  married  Mrs.  Leslie's  daughter,  who  had  tliirty 
thousand  pounds,  and  settled  at  the  Rectory  of  Merton, 


ALICE;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES.  75 

within  a  mile  of  the  family  seat.  He  became  a  very 
respectable  and  extremely  popular  man.  He  was  sin- 
gularly hospitable,  and  built  a  new  wing,  containing  a 
large  dining-room  and  six  capital  bedrooms,  to  the 
Eectory,  which  had  now  much  more  the  appearance  of 
a  country  villa  than  a  country  parsonage.  His  brother, 
succeeding  to  the  estates,  and  residing  chiefly  in  the 
neighborhood,  became,  like  his  father  before  him,  mem- 
ber for  the  county,  and  was  one  of  the  country  gentlemen 
most  looked  up  to  in  the  House  of  Commons.  A  sen- 
sible and  frequent,  though  uncommonly  prosy  speaker, 
singularly  independent  (for  he  had  a  clear  fourteen 
thousand  pounds  a  year,  and  did  not  desire  office),  and 
valuing  himself  on  not  being  a  party  man,  so  that  his 
vote  on  critical  questions  was  often  a  matter  of  great 
doubt,  and  therefore  of  great  moment,  —  Sir  John 
Merton  gave  considerable  importance  to  the  Reverend 
Charles  Merton.  The  latter  kept  up  all  the  more  select 
of  his  old  London  acquaintances;  and  few  country 
houses,  at  certain  seasons  of  the  year,  were  filled  more 
aristocratically  than  the  pleasant  Rectory-house.  Mr. 
Merton,  indeed,  contrived  to  make  the  Hall  a  reservoir 
for  the  Parsonage,  and  periodically  drafted  off  the  elite 
of  the  visitors  at  the  former  to  spend  a  few  days  at  the 
latter.  This  was  the  more  easily  done  as  his  brother 
was  a  widower,  and  his  conversation  was  all  of  one  sort, 
—  the  state  of  the  nation  and  the  agricultural  interest. 
Mr.  Merton  was  upon  very  friendly  terms  with  his 
brother:  looked  after  the  property  in  the  absence  of 
Sir  John;  kept  up  the  family  interest;  was  an  excel- 
lent electioneerer,  a  good  speaker  at  a  pinch,  an  able 
magistrate,  —  a  man,  in  short,  most  useful  in  the 
county.  On  the  whole,  he  was  more  popular  than  his 
brother,  and  almost  as  much  looked  up  to,  —  perhaps 


76  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

because  he  was  much  less  ostentatious.  He  had  very 
good  taste,  had  the  Reverend  Charles  Merton!  —  his 
table  plentiful,  but  plain;  his  manners  affable  to  the 
low,  though  agreeably  sycophantic  to  the  high;  and 
there  was  nothing  about  him  that  ever  wounded  self- 
love.  To  add  to  the  attractions  of  his  house,  his  wife, 
simple  and  good-tempered,  could  talk  with  anybody, 
take  off  the  bores,  and  leave  people  to  be  comfortable  in 
their  own  way;  while  he  had  a  large  family  of  fine 
children,  of  all  ages,  that  had  long  given  easy  and  con- 
stant excuse,  under  the  name  of  "  little  children's  par- 
ties," for  getting  up  an  impromptu  dance  or  a  gypsy 
dinner,  —  enlivening  the  neighborhood,  in  short.  Caro- 
line was  the  eldest;  then  came  a  son,  attached  to  a  for- 
eign ministry,  and  another,  Avho,  though  only  nineteen, 
was  a  private  secretary  to  one  of  our  Indian  satraps. 
The  acquaintance  of  these  young  gentlemen,  thus  en- 
gaged, it  was  therefore  Evelyn's  misfortune  to  lose  the 
advantage  of  cultivating,  ■ —  a  loss  which  both  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Merton  assured  her  was  very  much  to  be  regretted. 
But  to  make  up  to  her  for  such  a  privation,  there  were 
two  lovely  little  girls,  one  ten  and  the  other  seven  years 
old,  who  fell  in  love  with  Evelyn  at  first  sight.  Caro- 
line was  one  of  the  beauties  of  the  county,  clever  and 
conversable,  "drew  young  men,"  and  set  the  fashion  to 
young  ladies,  especially  when  she  returned  from  spending 
the  season  with  Lady  Elizabeth. 

It  was  a  delightful  family! 

In  person,  Mr.  Merton  was  of  the  middle  height; 
fair,  and  inclined  to  stoutness,  with  small  features, 
beautiful  teeth,  and  great  suavity  of  address.  Mindful 
still  of  the  time  when  he  had  been  "  about  town,"  he 
was  very  particular  in  his  dress.  His  black  coat,  neatly 
relieved  in  the  evening  by  a  white  under-waistcoat,  and 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTEUIKS.  77 

a  shirt-front  admirably  plaited,  with  plain  studs  of 
dark  enamel;  his  well-cut  trousers,  and  elaborately- 
polished  shoes  (he  was  good-humoredly  vain  of  his  feet 
and  hands) ,  —  won  for  him  the  common  praise  of  the 
dandies  (who  occasionally  honored  him  with  a  visit  to 
shoot  his  game,  and  flirt  with  his  daughter),  "that  old 

Merton  was  a  most  gentlemanlike  fellow,  —  so  d d 

neat  for  a  parson!  " 

Such,  mentally,  morally,  and  physically,  was  the 
Reverend  Charles  Merton,  rector  of  Merton,  brother  of 
Sir  John,  and  possessor  of  an  income  that,  what  with 
his  rich  living,  his  wife's  fortune,  and  his  own,  which 
was  not  inconsiderable,  amounted  to  between  four  and 
five  thousand  pounds  a  year,  —  which  income,  managed 
with  judgment  as  well  as  liberality,  could  not  fail  to 
secure  to  him  all  the  good  things  of  this  world,  the 
respect  of  his  friends  amongst  the  rest.  Caroline  was 
right  when  she  told  Evelyn  that  her  papa  was  very 
different  from  a  mere  country  parson. 

Now,  this  gentleman  could  not  fail  to  see  all  the  claims 
that  Evelyn  might  fairly  advance  upon  the  esteem,  nay, 
the  veneration,  of  himself  and  family:  a  young  beauty, 
with  a  fortune  of  about  a  quarter  of  a  million,  was  a 
phenomenon  that  might  fairly  be  called  celestial.  Her 
pretensions  were  enhanced  by  her  engagement  to  Lord 
Vargrave,  —  an  engagement  which  might  be  broken;  so 
that,  as  he  interpreted  it,  the  rvorst  that  could  happen 
to  the  young  lady  was  to  marry  an  able  and  rising  Min- 
ister of  State,  a  peer  of  the  realm.  But  she  was  per- 
fectly free  to  marry  a  still  greater  man,  if  she  could  find 
him ;  and  who  knows  but  what  perhaps  the  attache,  if 
he  could  get  leave  of  absence  1  —  Mr.  Merton  was  too 
sensible  to  pursue  that  thought  further  for  the  present. 

The  good  man  was  greatly  shocked  at  the  too  familiar 


/8  ALICE;   OK,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

manner  in  which  INIrs.  Merton  spoke  to  this  high-fated 
heiress;  at  Evelyn's  travelling  so  far  without  her  own 
maid;  at  her  very  primitive  wardrobe,  — poor,  ill-used 
child!  Mr.  Merton  Avas  a  connoisseur  in  ladies'  dress. 
It  was  quite  painful  to  see  that  the  unfortunate  girl  had 
been  so  neglected.  Lady  Vargrave  must  be  a  very 
strange  person.  He  inquired  compassionately  whether 
she  was  allowed  any  pocket-money  1  And  finding,  to  his 
relief,  that  in  that  respect  Miss  Cameron  was  munifi- 
cently supplied,  he  suggested  that  a  proper  Abigail 
should  be  immediately  engaged;  that  proper  orders  to 
Madame  Devy  should  be  immediately  transmitted  to 
London,  with  one  of  Evelyn's  dresses  as  a  pattern  for 
nothing  but  length  and  breadth.  He  almost  stamped 
with  vexation  when  he  heard  that  Evelyn  had  been 
placed  in  one  of  the  neat  little  rooms  generally  appro- 
priated to  young  lady  visitors. 

"  She  is  quite  contented,  my  dear  Mr.  Merton:  she  is 
so  simple;  she  has  not  been  brought  up  in  the  style  you 
think  for. " 

"  Mrs.  Merton,"  said  the  rector,  with  great  solemnity, 
"Miss  Cameron  may  know  no  better  now;  but  what 
will  she  think  of  us  hereafter?  It  is  my  maxim  to 
recollect  what  people  will  be,  and  show  them  that  re- 
spect which  may  leave  pleasing  impressions  when  they 
have  it  in  their  power  to  show  us  civility  in  return." 

With  many  apologies,  which  quite  overwhelmed  poor 
Evelyn,  she  was  transferred  from  the  little  chamber, 
with  its  French  bed  and  bamboo-colored  wash-hand 
stand,  to  an  apartment  with  a  buhl  wardrobe  and  a  four- 
po.st  bed  with  green  silk  curtains,  usually  appropriated  to 
the  regular  Christmas  visitant,  the  Dowager  Countess  of 
Chipperton:  a  pretty  morning-room  communicated  with 
the  sleeping  apartment,   and  thence  a  private  staircase 


ALICE;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES.  79 

conducted  into  the  gardens.  The  whole  family  were 
duly  impressed  and  re-impressed  with  her  importance. 
No  queen  could  he  more  made  of.  Evelyn  mistook  it 
all  for  pure  kindness,  and  returned  the  hospitality  with 
an  affection  that  extended  to  the  whole  family,  but  par- 
ticularly to  the  two  little  girls  and  a  beautiful  black 
spaniel.  Her  dresses  came  down  from  London ;  her 
Abigail  arrived;  the  buhl  wardrobe  was  duly  filled,  — 
and  Evelyn  at  last  learned  that  it  is  a  fine  tiling  to  be 
rich.  An  account  of  all  these  proceedings  was  forwarded 
to  Lady  Vargrave,  in  a  long  and  most  complacent  letter, 
by  the  rector  himself.  The  answer  was  short,  but  it 
contented  the  excellent  clergyman ;  for  it  approved  of 
all  he  had  done,  and  begged  that  Miss  Cameron  might 
have  everything  that  seemed  proper  to  her  station. 

By  the  same  post  came  two  letters  to  Evelyn  herself, 
—  one  from  Lady  Vargrave,  one  from  the  curate.  They 
transported  her  from  the  fine  room  and  the  buhl  ward- 
robe to  the  cottage  and  the  lawn;  and  the  fine  Abigail, 
when  she  came  to  dress  her  young  lady's  hair,  found  her 
weeping. 

It  was  a  matter  of  great  regret  to  the  rector  that  it 
was  that  time  of  year  when  —  precisely  because  the 
country  is  most  beautiful  —  every  one  worth  knowing  is 
in  town.  Still,  however,  some  stray  guests  found  their 
way  to  the  Rectory  for  a  day  or  two,  and  still  there  were 
some  aristocratic  old  families  in  the  neighborhood,  who 
never  went  up  to  London ;  so  that  two  days  in  the  week 
the  rector's  wine  flowed,  the  whist-tables  were  set  out, 
and  the  piano  called  into  requisition. 

Evelyn  —  the  object  of  universal  attention  and  admira- 
tion —  was  put  at  her  ease  by  her  station  itself ;  for  good 
manners  come  like  an  instinct  to  those  on  whom  the 
world  smiles.     Insensibly  she  acquired   self-possession 


80  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

and  the  smoothnesi?  of  society;  and  if  her  childlike  play- 
fulness broke  out  from  all  conventional  restraint,  it  only 
made  more  charming  and  brilliant  the  great  heiress, 
whose  delicate  and  fairy  cast  of  beauty  so  well  became 
her  graceful  abandon  of  manner,  and  who  looked  so 
unequivocally  ladylike  to  the  eyes  that  rested  on  Madame 
Devy's  blondes  and  satins. 

Caroline  was  not  so  gay  as  she  had  been  at  the  cottage. 
Something  seemed  to  weigh  upon  her  spirits;  she  was 
often  moody  and  thoughtful.  She  was  the  only  one  in 
the  family  not  good-tempered  ;  and  her  peevish  replies  to 
her  parents,  when  no  visitor  imposed  a  check  on  the 
family  circle,  inconceivably  pained  Evelyn,  and  greatly 
contrasted  the  flow  of  spirits  which  distinguished  her 
when  she  found  somebody  worth  listening  to.  Still 
Evel3'n  —  who,  where  she  once  liked,  found  it  difficult 
to  withdraw  regard  —  sought  to  overlook  Caroline's 
blemishes,  and  to  persuade  herself  of  a  thousand  good 
qualities  below  the  surface;  and  her  generous  nature 
found  constant  opportunity  of  venting  itself  in  costly 
gifts,  selected  from  the  London  parcels  with  which  the 
officious  Mr.  Merton  relieved  the  monotony  of  the 
Rectory.  These  gifts  Caroline  could  not  refuse  without 
paining  her  young  friend.  She  took  them  reluctantly ; 
for,  to  do  her  justice,  Caroline,  though  ambitious,  was 
not  mean. 

Thus  time  passed  in  the  Rectory,  in  gay  variety  and 
constant  entertainment;  and  all  things  combined  to  spoil 
the  heiress,  if,  indeed,  goodness  ever  is  spoiled  by  kind- 
ness and  prosperity.  Is  it  to  the  frost  or  to  the  sun- 
shine that  the  flower  opens  its  petals,  or  the  fruit  ripens 
from  the  blossom? 


ALICE:  OB,  THE  MYSTERIES.  81 


CHAPTER  III. 

Rod.    How  sweet  these  solitary  places  are  — 

Ped.    What  strange  music 

Was  that  we  heard  afar  off  ? 
Curio.  We  've  told  you  what  he  is,  what  time  we  've  sought  him,  — 

His  nature  and  his  name. 

^Beaumont  and  Fletcher  :  The  Pilgrim. 

One  day,  as  the  ladies  were  seated  in  Mrs,  Merton's 
morning-room,  Evelyn,  who  had  been  stationed  by 
the  window,  hearing  the  little  Cecilia  go  through  the 
French  verbs,  and  had  just  finished  that  agreeable 
task,  exclaimed, — 

"  Do  tell  me  to  whom  that  old  house  belongs,  with  the 
picturesque  gable-end  and  Gothic  turrets;  there,  just 
peeping  through  the  trees ,  —  I  have  ai  ways  forgot  to  ask 
you." 

"  Oh,  my  dear  Miss  Cameron,"  said  Mrs.  Merton, 
"  that  is  Burleigh.  Have  you  not  been  there  ?  How 
stupid  in  Caroline  not  to  show  it  to  you!  It  is  one  of 
the  lions  of  the  place.  It  belongs  to  a  man  you  have 
often  heard  of,  —  Mr.  Maltravers. " 

"  Indeed !  "  cried  Evelyn ;  and  she  gazed  with  new 
interest  on  the  gray,  melancholy  pile,  as  the  sunshine 
brouglit  it  into  strong  contrast  with  the  dark  pines 
around  it.     "  And  Mr.  Maltravers  himself  —  1  " 

"  Is  still  abroad,  I  believe ;  tliough  I  did  hear,  the 
other  day,  that  he  was  shortly  expected  at  Burleigh. 
It  is  a  curious  old  place,  though  much  neglected.  I 
believe,  indeed,  it  has  not  been  furnished  since  the  time 

6 


82  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

of  Charles  I.  (Cissy,  my  love,  don't  stoop  so.)  Very 
gloomy,  in  my  opinion;  and  not  any  fine  room  in  the 
house,  except  the  library,  which  was  once  a  chapel. 
However,  people  come  miles  to  see  it." 

"Will  you  go  there  to-day?"  said  Caroline,  lan- 
guidly. "  It  is  a  very  pleasant  walk  through  the  glebe- 
land  and  the  wood,  —  not  above  half  a  mile  by  the 
footpath. " 

"  I  should  like  it  so  much." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Merton;  "and  you  had  better  go 
before  he  returns,  —  he  is  so  strange.  He  does  not 
allow  it  to  be  seen  when  he  is  down.  But,  indeed,  he 
has  only  been  once  at  the  old  place  since  he  was  of  age, 
(Sophy,  you  will  tear  Miss  Cameron's  scarf  to  pieces; 
do  be  quiet,  child.)  That  was  before  he  was  a  great 
man,  —  he  was  then  very  odd:  saw  no  society;  only 
dined  once  with  us,  though  INIr.  Merton  paid  him  every 
attention.  They  show  the  room  in  which  he  wrote  his 
books." 

"  I  remember  him  very  well,  though  I  was  then  but 
a  child,"  said  Caroline,  —  "a  handsome,  thoughtful 
face." 

"  Did  you  think  so,  my  dear?  Fine  eyes  and  teeth,  cer- 
tainly, and  a  commanding  figure,  —  but  nothing  more." 

"  Well,"  said  Caroline,  "  if  you  like  to  go,  Evelyr 
I  am  at  your  service." 

"  And  —  I  —  Evy,  dear  —  I  —  may  go,"  said  Cecilia, 
clinging  to  Evelyn. 

"And  me  too,"  lisped  Sophia,  the  youngest  hope, — 
"  there  's  such  a  pretty  peacock." 

"Oh,  yes,  they  may  go,  Mrs.  Merton;  we'll  take 
such  care  of  them." 

"  Very  well,  my  dear;  Miss  Cameron  quite  spoils 
you." 


ALICE  ;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  83 

Evelyn  tripped  away  to  put  on  her  bonnet,  and  the 
children  ran  after  her,  clapping  their  hands,  —  they 
could  not  bear  to  lose  sight  of  her  for  a  moment. 

"  Caroline,"  said  IMrs.  Merton,  affectionately,  "  are 
you  not  well  ?  You  have  seemed  pale  lately,  and  not 
in  your  usual  spirits." 

"Oh,  yes,  I'm  well  enough,"  answered  Caroline, 
rather  peevishly;  "but  this  place  is  so  dull  now, — 
very  provoking  that  Lady  Elizabeth  does  not  go  to 
London  this  year." 

"My  dear,  it  will  be  gayer,  I  hope,  in  July,  when 
the  races  at  Knaresdean  begin;  and  Lord  Vargrave  has 
promised  to  come." 

"  Has  Lord  Vargrave  written  to  you  lately  1 " 

"No,  my  dear." 

"Very  odd." 

"  Does  Evelyn  ever  talk  of  him  1  " 

"Not  much,"  said  Caroline,  rising  and  quitting  the 
room. 

It  was  a  most  cheerful,  exhilarating  day,  —  the  close 
of  sweet  May:  the  hedges  were  white  with  blossoms; 
a  light  breeze  rustled  the  young  leaves ;  the  butterflies 
had  ventured  forth,  and  the  children  chased  them  over 
the  grass,  as  Evelyn  and  Caroline,  who  walked  much 
too  slow  for  her  companion  (Evelyn  longed  to  run), 
followed  thein  soberly  towards  Burleigh. 

They  passed  the  glebe-fields ;  and  a  little  bridge, 
thrown  over  a  brawling  rivulet,  conducted  them  into 
a  wood. 

"This  stream,"  said  Caroline,  "forms  the  boundary 
between  my  uncle's  estates  and  those  of  Mr.  Maltravers. 
It  must  be  very  unpleasant  to  so  proud  a  man  as  Mr. 
Maltravers  is  said  to  be,  to  have  the  land  of  another 
proprietor  so  near  his  house.     He  could  hear  my  micle's 


hA  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES. 

gun  from  his  very  drawing-room.  However,  Sir  John 
takes  care  not  to  molest  him.  On  the  other  side,  the 
Burleigh  estates  extend  for  some  miles;  indeed,  Mr. 
Maltravers  is  the  next  great  proprietor  to  my  uncle  in 
this  part  of  the  county.  Very  strange  that  he  does  not 
marry!     There,  now  you  can  see  the  house." 

The  mansion  lay  somewhat  low,  with  hanging  woods 
in  the  rear;  and  the  old-fashioned  fish-ponds  gleaming 
in  the  sunshine,  and  overshadowed  by  gigantic  trees, 
increased  the  venerable  stillness  of  its  aspect.  Ivy  and 
innumerable  creepers  covered  one  side  of  the  house;  and 
long  weeds  cumbered  the  deserted  road. 

"  It  is  sadly  neglected,"  said  Caroline,  "and  was  so, 
even  in  the  last  owner's  life.  Mr.  Maltravers  inherits 
the  place  from  his  mother's  uncle.  We  may  as  well 
enter  the  house  by  the  private  way ;  the  front  entrance 
is  kept  locked  up. " 

Winding  by  a  path  that  conducted  into  a  flower- 
garden,  divided  from  the  park  by  a  ha-ha,  over  which 
a  plank  and  a  small  gate,  rusting  off  its  hinges,  were 
placed,  Caroline  led  the  way  towards  the  building.  At 
this  point  of  view  it  presented  a  large  bay-window  that, 
by  a  flight  of  four  steps,  led  into  the  garden.  On  one 
side  rose  a  square,  narrow  turret,  surmounted  by  a  gilt 
dome  and  quaint  weathercock,  below  the  architrave  of 
which  was  a  sun-dial,  set  in  the  stonework;  and  another 
dial  stood  in  the  garden,  with  the  common  and  beautiful 
motto,  — 

"  Non  numero  horas,  nisi  serenas!  "  ^ 

On  the  other  side  of  the  bay-window,  a  huge  buttress 
cast  its  mass  of  shadow.  There  was  something  in  the 
appearance  of  the  whole  place  that  invited  to  contem- 

*  I  number  not  the  hours,  unless  sonny. 


ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  85 

plation  and  repose,  —  something  almost  monastic.  The 
gayety  of  the  teeming  spring-time  could  not  divest  the 
spot  of  a  certain  sadness,  —  not  displeasing,  however, 
whether  to  the  young,  to  whom  there  is  a  luxury  in  the 
vague  sentiment  of  melancholy,  or  to  those  who,  having 
known  real  griefs,  seek  for  an  anodjaie  in  meditation 
and  memory.  The  low,  lead-colored  door,  set  deep  in 
the  turret,  was  locked,  and  the  bell  beside  it  broken. 
Caroline  turned  impatiently  away.  "  We  must  go  round 
to  the  other  side,"  said  she,  "and  try  to  make  the  deaf 
old  man  hear  us." 

"Oh,  Carry,"  cried  Cecilia,  "the  great  window  is 
open ;  "  and  she  ran  up  the  steps. 

"  That  is  lucky,"  said  Caroline;  and  the  rest  followed 
Cecilia. 

Evelyn  now  stood  within  the  library  of  which  Mrs. 
Merton  had  spoken.  It  was  a  large  room,  about  fifty 
feet  in  length,  and  proportionably  wide;  somewhat  dark, 
for  the  light  came  only  from  the  one  large  window 
through  which  they  entered;  and  though  the  window 
rose  to  the  cornice  of  the  ceiling,  and  took  up  one  side 
of  the  apartment,  the  daylight  was  subdued  by  the  heavi- 
ness of  the  stonework  in  which  the  narrow  panes  were 
set,  and  by  the  glass  stained  with  armorial  bearings  in 
the  upper  part  of  the  casement.  The  bookcases,  too, 
were  of  the  dark  oak  which  so  much  absorbs  the  light; 
and  the  gilding,  formerly  meant  to  relieve  them,  was 
discolored  by  time. 

The  room  was  almost  disproportionably  lofty;  the 
ceiling,  elaborately  coved,  and  richly  carved  with  gro- 
tesque masks,  preserved  the  Gothic  character  of  the  age 
in  which  it  had  been  devoted  to  a  religious  purpose. 
Two  fireplaces,  with  high  chimney-pieces  of  oak,  in 
•which  were  inserted  two  portraits,  broke  the  symmetry 


86  ALICE  ;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

of  the  tall  bookcases.  In  one  of  these  fireplaces  were 
half-burnt  logs;  and  a  huge  armchair,  with  a  small 
reading-desk  beside  it,  seemed  to  bespeak  the  recent 
occupation  of  the  room.  On  the  fourth  side,  opposite 
the  window,  the  wall  was  covered  with  faded  tapestry, 
representing  the  meeting  of  Solomon  and  the  Queen  of 
Sheba;  the  arras  was  nailed  over  doors  on  either  hand; 
the  chinks  between  the  door  and  the  wall  serving,  in 
one  instance,  to  cut  off  in  the  middle  his  wise  Majesty, 
who  was  making  a  low  bow;  while  in  the  other  it  took 
the  ground  from  under  the  wanton  queen,  just  as  she 
■was  descending  from  her  chariot. 

Near  the  window  stood  a  grand  piano,  the  only 
modern  article  in  the  room  save  one  of  the  portraits, 
presently  to  be  described.  On  all  this  Evelyn  gazed 
silently  and  devoutly :  she  had  naturally  that  reverence 
for  genius  which  is  common  to  the  enthusiastic  and 
young ;  and  there  is,  even  to  the  dullest,  a  certain  in- 
terest in  the  homes  of  those  who  have  implanted  within 
us  a  new  thought.  But  here  there  was,  she  imagined, 
a  rare  and  singular  harmony  between  the  place  and  the 
mental  characteristics  of  the  owner.  She  fancied  she 
now  better  understood  the  shadowy  and  metaphysical 
repose  of  thought  that  had  distinguished  the  earlier 
writings  of  Maltravers,  —  the  writings  composed  or 
planned  in  this  still  retreat. 

But  what  particularly  caught  her  attention  was  one 
of  the  two  portraits  that  adorned  the  mantelpieces.  The 
further  one  was  attired  in  the  rich  and  fanciful  armor  of 
the  time  of  Elizabeth;  the  head  bare,  the  helmet  on 
a  table  on  which  the  hand  rested.  It  was  a  handsome 
and  striking  countenance ;  and  an  inscription  announced 
it  to  be  a  Digby,  an  ancestor  of  Maltravers. 

But  the  other  was  a  beautiful  girl  of  about  eighteen, 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  87 

in  the  now  almost  antiquated  dress  of  forty  years  ago. 
The  features  were  delicate,  but  the  colors  somewhat 
faded,  and  there  was  something  mournful  in  the  ex- 
pression. A  silk  curtain  drawn  on  one  side  seemed  to 
denote  how  carefully  it  was  prized  by  the  possessor. 

Evelyn  turned  for  explanation  to  her  cicerone. 

"This  is  the  second  time  I  have  seen  that  picture," 
said  Caroline;  "for  it  is  only  by  great  entreaty,  and  as 
a  mysterious  favor,  that  the  old  housekeeper  draws  aside 
the  veil.  Some  touch  of  sentiment  in  Maltravers  makes 
him  regard  it  as  sacred.  It  is  the  picture  of  his  mother 
before  she  married;  she  died  in  giving  him  birth." 

Evelyn  sighed;  how  well  she  understood  the  senti- 
ment which  seemed  to  Caroline  so  eccentric!  The  coun- 
tenance fascinated  her;  tlie  eye  seemed  to  follow  her  as 
she  turned. 

"  As  a  proper  pendant  to  this  picture,"  said  Caroline, 
"  he  ought  to  have  dismissed  the  effigies  of  yon  war- 
like gentleman,  and  replaced  it  by  one  of  poor  Lady 
Florence  Lascelles,  for  whose  loss  he  is  said  to  have 
quitted  his  country ;  but  perhaps  it  was  the  loss  of  her 
fortune." 

"How  can  you  say  so?  Fie!  "  cried  Evelyn,  with  a 
burst  of  generous  indignation. 

"Ah,  my  dear,  you  heiresses  have  a  fellow-feeling 
with  each  other!  Nevertheless,  clever  men  are  less 
sentimental  than  we  deem  them.  Heigho!  — this  quiet 
room  gives  me  the  spleen,  I  fancy." 

"  Dearest  Evy,"  whispered  Cecilia,  "  I  think  you  have 
a  look  of  that  pretty  picture,  only  you  are  much  prettier. 
Do  take  off  your  bonnet;  your  hair  just  falls  down  like 
hers." 

Evelyn  shook  her  head  gravely ;  but  the  spoiled  child 
hastily  untied  the  ribbons,  and  snatched  away  the  hat. 


88  ALICE  ;   OR,    THE    MYSTERIES. 

and  Evelyn's  sunny  ringlets  fell  down  in  beautiful  dis- 
order. There  was  no  resemblance  between  Evelyn  and 
the  portrait,  except  in  the  color  of  the  hair,  and  the  care- 
less fashion  it  now  by  chance  assumed.  Yet  Evelyn 
was  pleased  to  think  that  a  likeness  did  exist,  though 
Caroline  declared  it  was  a  most  unflattering  compliment. 

"  I  don't  wonder,"  said  the  latter,  changing  the  theme, 
—  "I  don't  wonder  Mr.  j\raltravers  lives  so  little  in  this 
*  Castle  Dull ; '  yet  it  might  be  much  improved.  French 
windows  and  plate  glass,  for  instance;  and  if  those  lum- 
bering bookshelves  and  horrid  old  chimney-pieces  were 
removed,  and  the  ceiling  painted  white  and  gold,  like 
that  in  my  uncle's  saloon,  and  a  rich,  lively  paper,  in- 
stead of  the  tapestry,  it  would  really  make  a  very  fine 
ball-room." 

"Let  us  have  a  dance  here  now,"  cried  Cecilia. 
"Come,  stand  up,  Sophy;"  and  the  children  began  to 
practise  a  waltz  step,  tumbling  over  each  other,  and 
laughing  in  full  glee. 

"  Hush,  hush!  "  said  Evelyn,  softly.  She  had  never 
before  checked  the  children's  mirth,  and  she  could  not 
tell  why  she  did  so  now. 

"  I  suppose  the  old  butler  has  been  entertaining  the 
bailiff  here,"  said  Caroline,  pointing  to  the  remains  of 
the  fire. 

"  And  is  this  the  room  he  chiefly  inhabited,  —  the 
room  that  you  say  they  show  as  his  1  " 

"  No ;  that  tapestry  door  to  the  right  leads  into  a  little 
study  where  he  wrote."  So  saying,  Caroline  tried  to 
open  the  door,  but  it  was  locked  from  within.  She  then 
opened  the  other  door,  which  showed  a  long  wainscoted 
passage,  hung  with  rusty  pikes,  and  a  few  breastplates 
of  the  time  of  the  Parliamentary  Wars.  "  This  leads 
to  the  main  body  of  the  house,"  said  Caroline,  "from 


ALICE;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  89 

which  the  room  we  are  now  in  and  the  little  study  are 
completely  detached,  having,  as  you  know,  been  the 
chapel  in  Popish  times,  I  have  heard  that  Sir  Kenelm 
Digby,  an  ancestral  connection  of  the  present  owner, 
first  converted  them  into  their  present  use,  and,  in 
return,  built  the  village  church  on  the  other  side  of  the 
park." 

Sir  Kenelm  Digby,  the  old  Cavalier  philosopher  !  —  a 
new  name  of  interest  to  consecrate  the  place !  Evelyn 
could  have  lingered  all  day  in  the  room,  and  perhaps 
as  an  excuse  for  a  longer  sojourn,  hastened  to  the  piano: 
it  was  open;  she  ran  her  fairy  fingers  over  the  keys, 
and  the  sound  from  the  untuned  and  neglected  instru- 
ment thrilled  wild  and  spirit-like  through  the  melancholy 
chamber. 

"  Oh,  do  sing  us  something,  Evy,"  cried  Cecilia, 
running  up  to,  and  drawing  a  chair  to,  the  instrument. 

"Do,  Evelyn,"  said  Caroline,  languidly;  "it  will 
serve  to  bring  one  of  the  servants  to  us,  and  save  us 
a  journey  to  the  offices. " 

It  was  just  what  Evelyn  wished.  Some  verses  which 
her  mother  especially  loved  —  verses  written  by  Mal- 
travers  upon  returning,  after  absence,  to  his  own  home 
—  had  rushed  into  her  mind  as  she  had  touched  the 
keys.  They  were  appropriate  to  the  place,  and  had 
been  beautifully  set  to  music.  So  the  children  hushed 
themselves,  and  nestled  at  her  feet;  and,  after  a  little 
prelude,  keeping  the  accompaniment  under,  that  the 
spoiled  instrument  might  not  mar  the  sweet  words  and 
sweeter  voice,  she  began  the  song. 

Meanwhile,  in  the  adjoining  room,  the  little  study 
which  Caroline  had  spoken  of,  sat  the  owner  of  the 
house.  He  had  returned  suddenly  and  unexpectedly 
the  previous  night.     The  old  steward  was  in  attendance 


90  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

at  the  moment,  full  of  apologies,  congratulations,  and 
gossip;  and  Maltravers,  grown  a  stern  and  haughty  man, 
Avas  already  impatiently  turning  away,  when  he  heard 
the  sudden  sound  of  the  children's  laughter  and  loud 
voices  in  the  room  beyond.     Maltravers  frowned. 

"What  impertinence  is  this?"  said  he,  in  a  tone 
that,  though  very  calm,  made  the  steward  quake  in  his 
shoes. 

"  I  don't  know,  really,  your  honor;  there  be  so  many 
grand  folks  come  to  see  the  house  in  the  fine  weather, 
that  —  " 

"  And  you  permit  your  master's  house  to  be  a  raree- 
show?     You  do  well,  sir." 

"  If  your  honor  were  more  amongst  us,  there  might  be 
more  discipline  like,"  said  the  steward,  stoutly;  "but 
no  one  in  my  time  has  cared  so  little  for  the  old  place  as 
those  it  belongs  to." 

"  Fewer  words  with  me,  sir,"  said  INIaltravers ,  haugh- 
tily ;  "  and  now  go  and  inform  those  people  that  I  am 
returned,  and  wish  for  no  guests  but  those  1  invite 
myself. " 

"Sir!" 

"  Do  you  not  hear  me  1  Say  that  if  it  so  please  them, 
these  old  ruins  are  my  property,  and  are  not  to  be  jobbed 
out  to  the  insolence  of  public  curiosity.     Go,  sir." 

"  But  —  I  beg  pardon,  your  honor,  —  if  they  be  great 
folks—?" 

"Great  folks!  —  great!  Ay,  there  it  is.  Why,  if 
they  be  great  folks,  they  have  great  houses  of  their 
own,  Mr.  Justis. " 

The  steward  stared.  "  Perhaps,  your  honor,"  he  put 
in  deprecatingly,  "they  be  Mr.  Merton's  family:  they 
come  very  often  when  the  London  gentlemen  are  with 
them." 


ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTEKIES.  91 

*Merton!  —  oh,  the  cringing  parson.  Harkye!  one 
word  more  with  me,  sir,  and  you  quit  my  service  to- 
morrow. " 

Mr.  Justis  lifted  his  eyes  and  hands  to  heaven;  but 
there  was  something  in  his  master's  voice  and  look 
which  checked  reply,  and  he  turned  slowly  to  the  door, 
when  a  voice  of  such  heavenly  sweetness  Avas  heard 
without  that  it  arrested  his  own  step,  and  made  the 
stern  Maltravers  start  in  his  seat.  He  held  up  his  hand 
to  the  steward  to  delay  his  errand,  and  listened,  charmed 
and  spell-lx)und.  His  own  words  came  on  his  ear,  — 
words  long  unfamiliar  to  him,  and  at  first  but  imper- 
fectly remembered;  words  connected  with  the  early  auf>. 
virgin  years  of  poetry  and  aspiration;  words  that  were 
as  the  ghosts  of  thoughts  now  far  too  gentle  for  his  altered 
soul.  He  bowed  down  his  head,  and  the  dark  shade  left 
his  brow. 

The  song  ceased.  Maltravers  moved  with  a  sigh,  and 
his  eyes  rested  on  the  form  of  the  steward  with  his  hand 
on  the  door. 

"  Shall  I  give  your  honor's  message  ?  "  said  Mr.  Justis, 
gravely. 

"  No;  take  care  for  the  future:  leave  me  now." 

Mr.  Justis  made  one  leg,  and  then,  well  pleased,  took 
to  both. 

"Well,"  thought  he,  as  he  departed,  "how  foreign 
parts  do  spoil  a  gentleman!  — so  mild  as  he  was  once! 
I  must  botch  up  the  accounts,  I  see,  —  the  squire  has 
grown  sharp." 

As  Evelyn  concluded  her  song,  she,  whose  charm 
in  singing  was  that  she  sang  from  the  heart,  was  so 
touched  by  the  melancholy  music  of  the  air  and  words 
that  her  voice  faltered,  and  the  last  line  died  inaudibly 
on  her  lips. 


92  ALICE;  OR,  THE   MYSTERIES. 

The  children  sprang  up  and  kissed  her. 

"Oh,"  cried  Cecilia,  "there  is  the  beautiful  pea- 
cock! "  And  there,  indeed,  on  the  steps  without,  per- 
haps attracted  by  the  music,  stood  the  picturesque  bird. 
The  children  ran  out  to  greet  their  old  favorite,  who  was 
extremely  tame;  and  presently  Cecilia  returned. 

"  Oh,  Carry,  do  see  what  beautiful  horses  are  coming 
up  the  park !  " 

Caroline,  who  was  a  good  rider,  and  fond  of  horses, 
and  whose  curiosity  was  always  aroused  by  things  con- 
nected with  show  and  station,  suffered  the  little  girl  to 
draw  her  into  the  garden.  Two  grooms,  each  mounted 
on  a  horse  of  the  pure  Arabian  breed,  and  each  leading 
another,  swathed  and  bandaged,  were  riding  slowly  up 
the  road;  and  Caroline  was  so  attracted  by  the  novel 
appearance  of  the  animals  in  a  place  so  deserted  that 
she  followed  the  children  towards  them,  to  learn  who 
could  possibly  be  their  enviable  owner.  Evelyn,  for- 
gotten for  the  moment,  remained  alone.  She  was  pleased 
at  being  so,  and  once  more  turned  to  the  picture  which 
had  so  attracted  her  before.  The  mild  eyes  fixed  on  her 
with  an  expression  that  recalled  to  her  mind  her  own 
mother. 

"And,"  thought  she,  as  she  gazed,  "  this  fair  creature 
did  not  live  to  know  the  fame  of  her  son,  —  to  rejoice 
in  his  success,  or  to  soothe  his  grief.  And  he,  that  son, 
—  a  disappointed  and  solitary  exile  in  distant  lands, 
while  strangers  stand  within  his  deserted  hall!" 

The  images  she  had  conjured  up  moved  and  absorbed 
her,  and  she  continued  to  stand  before  the  picture, 
gazing  upward  with  moistened  eyes.  It  was  a  beauti- 
ful vision  as  she  thus  stood,  with  her  delicate  bloom, 
her  luxuriant  hair  ffor  the  hat  was  not  yet  replaced) , 
her  elastic  form,  so  full  of  youth  and  health  and  hope, 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  93 

—  the  living  form  beside  the  faded  canvas  of  the  dead, 
once  youthful,  tender,  lovely  as  herself!  Evelyn  turned 
away  with  a  sigh;  the  sigh  was  re-echoed  yet  more 
deeply.  She  started :  the  door  that  led  to  the  study  Avas 
opened,  and  in  the  aperture  was  the  figure  of  a  man,  in 
the  prime  of  life.  His  hair,  still  luxuriant  as  in  his 
earliest  youth,  though  darkened  by  the  suns  of  the  East, 
curled  over  a  forehead  of  majestic  expanse.  The  high 
and  proud  features,  that  well  became  a  stature  above  the 
ordinary  standard;  the  pale  but  bronzed  complexion; 
the  large  eyes  of  deepest  blue,  shaded  by  dark  brows 
and  lashes;  and,  more  than  all,  that  expression  at  once 
of  passion  and  repose  which  characterizes  the  old  Italian 
portraits,  and  seems  to  denote  the  inscrutable  power 
that  experience  imparts  to  intellect, — constituted  an 
ensemble  which,  if  not  faultlessly  handsome,  was  emi- 
nently striking,  and  formed  at  once  to  interest  and  com- 
mand. It  was  a  face  once  seen,  never  to  be  forgotten; 
it  was  a  face  that  had  long,  half  unconsciously,  haunted 
Evelyn's  young  dreams;  it  was  a  face  she  had  seen 
before ,  though ,  then  younger  and  milder  and  fairer,  it 
wore  a  different  aspect. 

Evelyn  stood  rooted  to  the  spot,  feeling  herself  blush 
to  her  very  temples,  —  an  enchanting  picture  of  bashful 
confusion  and  innocent  alarm. 

"Do  not  let  me  regret  my  return,"  said  the  stranger, 
approaching  after  a  short  pause,  and  with  much  gentle- 
ness in  his  voice  and  smile,  "  and  think  that  the  owner 
is  doomed  to  scare  away  the  fair  spirits  that  haunted  the 
spot  in  his  absence." 

"The  owner!"  repeated  Evelyn,  almost  inaudibly, 
and  in  increased  embarrassment ;  "  are  you  then  the  — 
the  —  " 

"Yes,"  courteously  interrupted   the   stranger,  seeing 


94  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

her  confusion ;  "  my  name  is  Maltravers ;  and  I  am  to 
blame  for  not  having  informed  you  of  my  sudden  re- 
turn, or  for  now  trespassing  on  your  presence.  But 
you  see  my  excuse ; "  and  he  pointed  to  the  instru- 
ment. "  You  have  the  magic  that  draws  even  the 
serpent  from  his  hole.     But  you  are  not  alone  1  " 

"Oh,  no!  no,  indeed!  Miss  Merton  is  with  me.  I 
know  not  where  she  is  gone.     I  will  seek  her. " 

"Miss  Merton!  You  are  not,  then,  one  of  that 
family  ? " 

"  No,  only  a  guest.  I  will  find  her,  —  she  must 
apologize  for  us.  We  were  not  aware  that  you  were 
here,  —  indeed  we  were  not." 

"  That  is  a  cruel  excuse,"  said  Maltravers,  smiling 
at  her  eagerness;  and  the  smile  and  the  look  reminded 
her  yet  more  forcibly  of  the  time  when  he  had  carried  her 
in  his  arms,  and  soothed  her  suffering,  and  praised 
her  courage,  and  pressed  the  kiss  almost  of  a  lover  on  her 
hand.  At  that  thought  she  blushed  yet  more  deeply, 
and  yet  more  eagerly  turned  to  escape. 

Maltravers  did  not  seek  to  detain  her,  but  silently 
followed  her  steps.  She  had  scarcely  gained  the  window 
before  little  Cecilia  scampered  in,  crying, — 

"Only  think!  Mr.  Maltravers  has  come  back,  and 
brought  such  beautiful  horses!  " 

Cecilia  stopped  abruptly  as  she  caught  sight  of  the 
stranger;  and  the  next  moment  Caroline  herself  ap- 
peared. Her  worldly  experience  and  quick  sense  saw 
immediately  what  had  chanced;  and  she  hastened  to 
apologize  to  Maltravers,  and  congratulate  him  on  his 
return,  with  an  ease  that  astonished  poor  Evelyn,  and 
by  no  means  seemed  appreciated  by  Maltravers  himself. 
He  replied  with  brief  and  haughty  courtesy. 

"  My  father,"  continued  Caroline,  "  will  be  so  glad  to 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  95 

hear  you  are  come  back.  He  will  hasten  to  pay  yovi 
his  respects,  and  apologize  for  his  tniants.  But  I  have 
not  formally  introduced  you  to  my  fellow-offender.  My 
dear,  let  me  present  to  you  one  whom  fame  has  already 
made  known  to  you,  —  Mr.  Mai tra vers,  Miss  Cameron, 
daughter-in-law,"  she  added,  in  a  lower  voice,  "to  the 
late  Lord  Vargrave." 

At  the  first  part  of  this  introduction  Maltravers 
frowned;  at  the  last,  he  forgot  all  displeasure. 

"Is  it  possible?  I  thought  I  had  seen  you  before, 
but  in  a  dream.     Ah!  then  we  are  not  quite  strangers!  " 

Evelyn's  eye  met  his,  and  though  she  colored,  and 
strove  to  look  grave,  a  half-smile  brought  out  the  dim- 
ples that  played  round  her  arch  lips. 

"  But  you  do  not  remember  me  1  "  added  Maltravers. 

"Oh,  yes!"  exclaimed  Evelyn,  with  a  sudden  im- 
pulse, and  then  checked  herself. 

Caroline  came  to  her  friend's  relief. 

"What  is  this?  You  surprise  me;  where  did  you 
ever  see  Mr.  Maltravers  before  ?  " 

"I  can  answer  that  question,  Miss  Merton.  When 
Miss  Cameron  was  but  a  child,  as  high  as  my  little 
friend  here,  an  accident  on  the  road  procured  me  her 
acquaintance ;  and  the  sweetness  and  fortitude  she  then 
displayed  left  an  impression  on  me  not  worn  out  even 
to  this  day.  — And  thus  we  meet  again,"  added  Mal- 
travers, in  a  muttered  voice,  as  to  himself.  "  Ho\t 
strange  a  thing  life  is!  " 

"  Well,"  said  Miss  Merton,  "  we  must  intrude  on  you 
no  more,  —  you  have  so  much  to  do.  lam  sorry  Sir 
John  is  not  down  to  welcome  you ;  but  I  hope  we  shall 
be  good  neighbors.     Au  revoir  !  " 

And  fancying  herself  most  charming,  Caroline 
bowed,  smiled,  and  walked  off  with  her   train.     Mai- 


96  ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

travers  paused  irresolute.  If  Evelyn  had  looked  back, 
he  would  have  accompanied  them  home;  but  Evelyn 
did  not  look  back  —  and  he  stayed. 

Miss  Merton  rallied  her  young  friend  unmercifully 
as  they  walked  homeward,  and  she  extracted  a  very  brief 
and  imperfect  history  of  the  adventure  that  had  formed 
the  first  acquaintance,  and  of  the  interview  by  which 
it  had  been  renewed.  But  Evelyn  did  not  heed  her, 
and  the  moment  they  arrived  at  the  Rectory,  she  has- 
tened to  shut  herself  in  her  room,  and  write  the  account 
of  her  adventure  to  her  mother.  How  often,  in  her 
girlish  reveries,  had  she  thought  of  that  incident,  that 
stranger!  And  now,  by  such  a  chance,  and  after  so 
many  years,  to  meet  the  Unknown  by  his  own  hearth; 
and  that  Unknown  to  be  Maltravers !  It  was  as  if  a 
dream  had  come  true.  While  she  was  yet  musing, — 
and  the  letter  not  yet  begun,  —  she  heard  the  sound  of 
joy-bells  in  the  distance.  At  once  she  divined  the 
cause ;  it  was  the  welcome  of  the  wanderer  to  his  solitary 
home. 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  97 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Mais  en  connaissant  votre  condition  naturelle,  usez  des  raoyens  qui 
lui  sont  propres,  et  ne  pretendez  pas  re'gner  par  une  autre  voie 
que  par  celle  qui  vous  fait  roi.^  —  Pascal. 

In  the  heart,  as  in  the  ocean,  the  great  tides  ebb  and 
flow.  The  waves  which  had  once  urged  on  the  spirit 
of  Ernest  Maltravers  to  the  rocks  and  shoals  of  active 
life  had  long  since  receded  back  upon  the  calm  depths, 
and  left  the  strand  bare.  "With  a  melancholy  and  dis- 
appointed mind  he  had  quitted  the  land  of  his  birth; 
and  new  scenes,  strange  and  wild,  had  risen  before  his 
wandering  gaze.  Wearied  with  civilization,  and  sated 
with  many  of  the  triumphs  for  which  civilized  men 
drudge  and  toil  and  disquiet  themselves  in  vain,  he 
had  plunged  amongst  hordes  scarce  redeemed  from  pri- 
meval barbarism.  The  adventures  through  which  he  had 
passed,  and  in  which  life  itself  could  only  be  preserved 
by  wary  vigilance  and  ready  energies,  had  forced  him 
for  a  while,  from  the  indulgence  of  morbid  contempla- 
tions. His  heart,  indeed,  had  been  left  inactive;  but 
his  intellect  and  his  physical  powers  had  been  kept  in 
hourly  exercise.  He  returned  to  the  world  of  his 
equals  with  a  mind  laden  with  the  treasures  of  a  various 
and  vast  experience,  and  with  much  of  the  same  gloomy 
moral  as  that  which,  on  emerging  from  the  Catacombs, 
assured  the  restless  speculations  of  Rasselas  of  the 
vanity  of  human  life  and  the  folly  of  moral  aspirations. 

1  But  in  understanding  your  natural  condition,  use  the  means 
which  are  proper  to  it ;  and  pretend  not  to  govern  by  any  other 
way  than  by  that  which  constitutes  you  governor. 


98  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

Ernest  Maltravers,  never  a  faultless  or  completed 
character,  falling  short  in  practice  of  his  own  capacities, 
moral  and  intellectual,  from  his  very  desire  to  overpass 
the  limits  of  the  great  and  good,  was  seemingly  as  far  as 
heretofore  from  the  grand  secret  of  life.  It  was  not  so 
in  reality :  his  mind  had  acquired  what  before  it  wanted, 
—  hardness  ;  and  we  are  nearer  to  true  virtue  and  true 
happiness  when  we  demand  too  little  from  men  than 
when  we  exact  too  much. 

Nevertheless,  partly  from  the  strange  life  that  had 
thrown  him  amongst  men  whom  safety  itself  made  it 
necessary  to  command  despotically,  partly  from  the  habit 
of  power,  and  disdain  of  the  world,  his  nature  was  in- 
crusted  with  a  stern  imperiousness  of  manner,  often  ap- 
proaching to  the  harsh  and  morose,  though  beneath  it 
lurked  generosity  and  benevolence. 

Many  of  his  younger  feelings,  more  amiable  and  com- 
plex, had  settled  into  one  predominant  quality,  which 
more  or  less  had  always  characterized  him , —  pride.  Self- 
esteem  made  inactive,  and  ambition  made  discontented, 
usually  engender  haughtiness.  In  Maltravers  this  qual- 
ity, which,  properly  controlled  and  duly  softened,  is 
the  essence  and  life  of  honor,  was  carried  to  a  vice.  He 
was  perfectly  conscious  of  its  excess,  but  he  cherished  it 
as  a  virtue.  Pride  had  served  to  console  him  in  sorrow, 
and  therefore  it  was  a  friend;  it  had  supported  him 
when  disgusted  with  fraud,  or  in  resistance  to  violence, 
and  therefore  it  was  a  champion  and  a  fortress.  It 
was  a  pride  of  a  peculiar  sort;  it  attached  itself  to  no 
one  point  in  especial:  not  to  talent,  knowledge,  mental 
gifts,  —  still  less  to  the  vulgar  commonplaces  of  birth 
and  fortune ;  it  rather  resulted  from  a  supreme  and  whole- 
sale contempt  of  all  other  men,  and  all  their  objects,  — 
of  ambition,  of  glory,  of  the  hard  business  of  life.     His 


ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  99 

favorite  virtue  Avas  fortitude;  it  was  on  this  that  he  now 
mainly  valued  himself.      He  was  proud  of  his  struggles 
against   others,  —  prouder  still    of   conquests    over    his 
own  passions.     He  looked  upon  fatk  as  tlie  arch  enemy 
against   whose   attacks   we   should   ever   prepare.      He 
fancied   that  against   fate  he  had    thoroughly  schooled 
himself.     In  the  arrogance  of  his  heart  he  said,  "  I  can 
defy  the  future."     He  believed  in  the  boast  of  the  vain 
old  sage,  "  I  am  a  world  to  myself!  "  In  the  wild  career 
through  which  his  later  manhood  had  passed,  it  is  true 
that  he  had  not  carried  his  philosophy  into  a  rejection  of 
the  ordinary  world.     The  shock  occasioned  by  the  death 
of  Florence  yielded  gradually  to  time  and  change;  and 
he  had  passed  from  the  deserts  of  Africa  and  the  East 
to  the  brilliant  cities  of  Europe.     But  neither  his  heart 
nor  his  reason  had  ever  again  been  enslaved  by  his  pas- 
sions.    Never  again  had  he  known  the  softness  of  affec- 
tion.    Had  he  done  so,  the  ice  had  been  thawed,  and  the 
fountain  had  flowed  once  more  into  the  great  deeps.     He 
had  returned  to  England,  —  he  scarce  knew  wherefore 
or  with  what  intent ;  certainly  not  with  any  idea  of  en- 
tering again  upon  the  occupations  of  active  life:  it  was, 
perhaps,  only  the  weariness  of  foreign  scenes  and  un- 
familiar  tongues,    and   the    vague,  unsettled   desire   of 
change,  that  brought  him  back  to  the  fatherland.     But 
he  did  not  allow  so  unphilosophical  a  cause  to  himself; 
and,  what  was  strange,  he  would  not  allow  one  much  more 
amiable,  and  which  was,  perhaps,  the  truer  cause,  —  the 
increasing  age  and  infirmities  of  his  old  guardian  Cleve- 
land, who   prayed  him  affectionately  to  return.     Mal- 
travers  did  not  like  to  believe  that  his  heart  was  still  so 
kind.     Singular  form  of  pride!     No;  he  rather  sought 
to  persuade  himself  that  he  intended  to  sell  Burleigh, 
to  arrange  his  affairs  finally,  and  then  quit  forever  his 


100  ALICE;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES. 

native  land.  To  prove  to  himself  that  this  was  the  case, 
he  had  intended  at  Dover  to  hurry  at  once  to  Bvirleigh, 
and  merely  write  to  Cleveland  that  he  was  returned  to 
England.  But  his  heart  would  not  suffer  him  to  enjoy 
this  cruel  luxury  of  self-mortification,  and  his  horses' 
heads  were  turned  to  Richmond,  when  within  a  stage  of 
London.  He  had  spent  two  days  with  the  good  old 
man,  and  those  two  days  had  so  warmed  and  softened 
his  feelings  that  he  was  quite  appalled  at  his  own  dere- 
liction from  fixed  principles!  However,  he  went  be- 
fore Cleveland  had  time  to  discover  that  he  was  changed; 
and  the  old  man  had  promised  to  visit  him  shortly. 

This,  then,  was  the  state  of  Ernest  Maltravers  at  the 
age  of  thirty-six,  —  an  age  in  which  frame  and  mind  are 
in  their  fullest  perfection ;  an  age  in  which  men  begin 
most  keenly  to  feel  that  they  are  citizens.  With  all 
his  energies  braced  and  strengthened;  with  his  mind 
stored  with  profusest  gifts ;  in  the  vigor  of  a  constitu- 
tion to  which  a  hardy  life  had  imparted  a  second  and 
fresher  youth;  so  trained  by  stern  experience  as  to 
redeem,  with  an  easy  effort,  all  tlie  deficiencies  and 
faults  which  had  once  resulted  from  too  sensitive  an 
imagination,  and  too  high  a  standard  for  human  actions; 
formed  to  render  to  his  race  the  most  brilliant  and  dur- 
able service,  and  to  secure  to  himself  the  happiness 
which  results  from  sobered  fancy,  a  generous  heart, 
and  an  approving  conscience,  —  here  was  Ernest  Mal- 
travers, backed,  too,  by  the  appliances  and  gifts  of  birth 
and  fortune,  perversely  shutting  up  genius,  life,  and 
soul  in  their  own  thorny  leaves,  and  refusing  to  serve 
the  fools  and  rascals,  who  were  formed  from  the  same 
clay,  and  gifted  by  the  same  God.  Morbid  and  morose 
philosophy,  begot  by  a  proud  spirit  on  a  lonely  heart  1 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  101 


CHAPTER  V. 

Let  such  amongst  us  as  are  williug  to  be  childreu  again,  if  it  be 
only  for  an  hour,  resign  ourselves  to  the  sweet  enchantment  that 
steals  upon  the  spirit  when  it  indulges  in  the  memory  of  early 
and  innocent  enjoyment.  —  D.  L.  Richardson. 

At  dinner,  Caroline's  lively  recital  of  their  adventures 
was  received  with  much  interest,  not  only  by  the  Mer- 
ton  family,  but  by  some  of  the  neighboring  gentry  who 
shared  the  rector's  hospitality.  The  sudden  return  of 
any  proprietor  to  his  old  hereditary  seat  after  a  prolonged 
absence  makes  some  sensation  in  a  provincial  neighbor- 
hood. In  this  case,  where  the  proprietor  was  still 
young,  unmarried,  celebrated,  and  handsome,  the  sensa- 
tion was,  of  course,  proportionably  increased.  Caroline 
and  Evelyn  were  beset  by  questions,  to  which  the 
former  alone  gave  any  distinct  reply.  Caroline's  ac- 
count was,  on  the  whole,  gracious  and  favorable,  and 
seemed  complimentary  to  all  but  Evelyn,  who  thought 
that  Caroline  was  a  very  indifferent  portrait-painter. 

It  seldom  happens  that  a  man  is  a  prophet  in  his  own 
neighborhood;  but  Maltravers  had  been  so  little  in  the 
county,  and  in  his  former  visit  his  life  had  been  so 
secluded,  that  he  was  regarded  as  a  stranger.  He  had 
neither  outshone  the  establishment,  nor  interfered  with 
the  sporting  of  his  fellow-squires;  and,  on  the  whole, 
they  made  just  allowance  for  his  habits  of  distant  re- 
serve. Time  and  his  retirement  from  the  busy  scene, 
long  enough  to  cause  him  to  be  missed,  not  long  enough 
for  new  favorites  to  supply  his  place,  had  greatly  served 


102  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

to  mellow  and  consolidate  his  reputation,  and  his  coun- 
try \vas  proud  to  claim  him.  Thus  (though  Maltravers 
would  not  have  believed  it,  had  an  angel  told  him)  he 
was  not  spoken  ill  of  behind  his  back:  a  thousand  little 
anecdotes  of  his  personal  habits,  of  his  generosity,  in- 
dependence of  spirit,  and  eccentricity,  were  told.  Eve- 
lyn listened  in  rapt  delight  to  all :  she  had  never  passed 
so  pleasant  an  evening;  and  she  smiled  almost  gratefully 
on  the  rector,  who  was  a  man  that  always  followed 
the  stream,  when  he  said,  with  benign  affability,  "  We 
must  really  show  our  distinguished  neighbor  every 
attention,  —  we  must  be  indulgent  to  his  little  oddities. 
His  politics  are  not  mine,  to  be  sure;  but  a  man  who 
has  a  stake  in  the  country  has  a  right  to  his  own  opin- 
ion, —  that  was  always  my  maxim;  thank  Heaven,  I 
am  a  very  moderate  man.  We  must  draw  him  amongst 
us:  it  will  be  our  own  fault,  I  am  sure,  if  he  is  not 
quite  domesticated  at  the  Ilectory. " 

"  With  such  attraction,  — yes,"  said  the  thin  curate, 
timidly  bowing  to  the  ladies. 

"  It  would  be  a  nice  match  for  Miss  Caroline,"  whis- 
pered an  old  lady.  Caroline  overheard,  and  pouted  her 
pretty  lip. 

The  whist-tables  were  now  set  out,  the  music  began, 
—  and  Maltravers  was  left  in  peace. 

The  next  day,  Mr.  Merton  rode  his  pony  over  to  Bur- 
leigh. Maltravers  was  not  at  home.  He  left  his  card, 
and  a  note  of  friendly  respect,  begging  Mr.  Maltravers 
to  waive  ceremony,  and  dine  with  them  the  next  day. 
Somewhat  to  the  surprise  of  the  rector,  he  found  that 
the  active  spirit  of  Maltravers  was  already  at  work. 
The  long-deserted  grounds  were  filled  with  laborers; 
the  carpenters  were  busy  at  the  fences;  the  house 
looked  alive  and  stirring;  the  grooms  were    exercising 


ALICE  ;   OR,    THE   MYSTERIES.  103 

the  horses  in  the  park, — all  betokened  the  return  of 
the  absentee.  This  seemed  to  denote  that  Maltravers 
had  come  to  reside;  and  the  rector  thought  of  Caroline, 
and  was  pleased  at  the  notion. 

The  next  day  was  Cecilia's  birthday ;  and  birthdays 
were  kept  at  Merton  Rectory :  the  neighboring  chil- 
dren were  invited.  They  were  to  dine  on  the  lawn,  in 
a  large  marquee,  and  to  dance  in  the  evening.  The 
hothouses  yielded  their  early  strawberries,  and  the  cows, 
decorated  with  blue  ribbons,  were  to  give  syllabubs. 
The  polite  Caroline  was  not  greatly  fascinated  by  pleas- 
ure of  this  kind:  she  graciously  appeared  at  dinner, 
kissed  the  prettiest  of  the  children,  helped  them  to  soup, 
and  then  having  done  her  duty,  retired  to  her  room  to 
write  letters.  The  children  were  not  sorry,  for  they 
were  a  little  afraid  of  the  grand  Caroline;  and  they 
laughed  much  more  loudly,  and  made  much  more  noise, 
when  she  was  gone ,  —  and  the  cakes  and  strawberries 
appeared. 

Evelyn  was  in  her  element;  she  had,  as  a  child, 
mixed  so  little  with  children,  —  she  had  so  often 
yearned  for  playmates;  she  was  still  so  childlike;  be- 
sides, she  was  so  fond  of  Cecilia,  she  had  looked  forward 
with  innocent  delight  to  the  day,  and  a  week  before 
had  taken  the  carriage  to  the  neighboring  town,  to  re- 
turn with  a  carefully  concealed  basket  of  toys,  —  dolls, 
sashes,  and  picture-books.  But,  somehow  or  other,  she 
did  not  feel  so  childlike  as  usual  that  morning;  her 
heart  was  away  from  the  pleasure  before  her;  and  her 
smile  was  at  first  languid.  But  in  children's  mirth 
there  is  something  so  contagious  to  those  who  love  chil- 
dren; and  now,  as  the  party  scattered  themselves  on  the 
grass,  and  Evelyn  opened  the  basket,  and  bade  them 
with  much  gravity  keep  quiet,  and  be  good   children, 


104  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

she  was  the  happiest  of  the  whole  group.  But  she 
knew  how  to  give  pleasure:  and  the  basket  was  pre- 
sented to  Cecilia,  that  the  little  queen  of  the  day  might 
enjoy  the  luxury  of  being  generous;  and  to  prevent 
jealousy,  the  notable  expedient  of  a  lottery  was 
suggested. 

"Then  Evy  shall  be  Fortune!  "  cried  Cecilia;  "no- 
body will  be  sorry  to  get  anything  from  Evy,  —  and  if 
any  one  is  discontented,  Evy  sha'n't  kiss  her." 

Mrs.  Merton,  whose  motherly  heart  was  completely 
won  by  Evelyn's  kindness  to  the  children,  forgot  all 
her  husband's  lectures,  and  willingly  ticketed  the 
prizes,  and  wrote  the  numbers  of  the  lots  on  slips  of 
paper  carefully  folded.  A  large  old  Indian  jar  was 
dragged  from  the  drawing-room  and  constituted  the  fated 
urn:  the  tickets  were  deposited  therein,  and  Cecilia 
was  tying  the  handkerchief  round  Evelyn's  eyes,  — 
while  Fortune  struggled  archly  not  to  be  as  blind  as  she 
ought  to  be,  —  and  the  children,  seated  in  a  circle,  were 
in  full  joy  and  expectation,  when  there  was  a  sudden 
pause,  the  laughter  stopped,  so  did  Cissy's  little  hands. 
What  could  it  be?  Evelyn  slipped  the  bandage,  and 
her  eyes  rested  on  Maltravers. 

"Well,  really,  my  dear  Miss  Cameron,"  said  the  rec- 
tor, who  was  by  the  side  of  the  intruder,  and  who,  in- 
deed, had  just  brought  him  to  the  spot,  "  I  don't  know 
what  these  little  folks  will  do  to  you  next." 

"  I  ought  rather  to  be  their  victim,"  said  Maltravers, 
good-humoredly ;  "  the  fairies  always  punish  us  grown- 
up mortals  for  trespassing  on  their  revels." 

While  he  spoke,  his  eyes  —  those  eyes,  the  most 
eloquent  in  the  world  —  dwelt  on  Evelyn  (as,  to  cover 
her  blushes,  she  took  Cecilia  in  her  arms,  and  appeared 
to  attend  to  nothing  else)  with  a  look  of  such  admira- 


ALICE;    OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  105 

tion  and  delight  as  a  mortal  might  well  be  supposed  to 
cast  on  some  beautiful  fairy. 

Sophy,  a  very  bold  child,  ran  up  to  him.  "  How  do, 
sir?"  she  lisped,  putting  up  her  face  to  be  kissed, — ■ 
"  how  's  the  pretty  peacock  1  " 

This  opportune  audacity  served  at  once  to  renew  the 
charm  that  had  been  broken,  —  to  unite  the  stranger 
with  the  children.  Here  was  acquaintance  claimed  and 
allowed  in  an  instant.  The  next  moment  Maltravers 
was  one  of  the  circle,  — on  the  turf  with  the  rest,  as 
gay,  and  almost  as  noisy:  that  hard,  proud  man,  so 
disdainful  of  the  trifles  of  the  world,  ! 

"But  the  gentleman  must  have  a  prize,  too,"  said 
Sophy,  proud  of  her  tall  new  friend.  "  What 's  your 
other  name?  Why  do  you  have  such  a  long,  hard 
name  ?  " 

"  Call  me  Ernest, "  said  Maltravers. 

"  Why  don't  we  begin  ?  "  cried  the  children. 

"  Evy,  come,  be  a  good  child,  miss,"  said  Sophy,  as 
Evelyn,  vexed  and  ashamed,  and  half  ready  to  cry, 
resisted  the  bandage. 

Mr.  Merton  interposed  his  authority;  but  the  children 
clamored,  and  Evelyn  hastily  yielded.  It  was  Fortune's 
duty  to  draw  the  tickets  from  the  urn,  and  give  them 
to  each  claimant,  whose  name  was  call-ed:  when  it  came 
to  the  turn  of  Maltravers,  the  bandage  did  not  conceal 
the  blush  and  smile  of  the  enchanting  goddess;  and  the 
hand  of  the  aspirant  thrilled  as  it  touched  hers. 

The  children  burst  into  screams  of  laughter  when 
Cecilia  gravely  awarded  to  Maltravers  the  worst  prize 
in  the  lot:  a  blue  ribbon, — which  Sophy,  however, 
greedily  insisted  on  having;  but  Maltravers  would  not 
yield  it. 

Maltravers   remained   all   day   at   the   Rectory,    and 


106  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

shared  in  the  ball :  yes,  he  danced  with  Evelyn ,  —  he , 
Mai  travels,  who  had  never  been  known  to  dance  since 
he  was  twenty-two!  The  ice  was  fairly  broken,  —  Mal- 
travers  was  at  home  with  the  Mertons.  Aiid  when  he 
took  his  solitary  walk  to  his  solitary  house,  —  over 
the  little  bridge,  and  through  the  shadowy  wood,  aston- 
ished, perhaps,  with  himself,  — every  one  of  the  guests, 
from  the  oldest  to  the  youngest,  pronounced  him  delight- 
ful. Caroline,  perhaps,  might  have  been  piqued  some 
months  ago,  that  he  did  not  dance  with  her;  but  now, 
her  heart  —  such  as  it  was  —  felt  preoccupied. 


ALICE;  OR,  THE   MYSTEKIES.  107 


CHAPTER  VI. 

L'esprit  de  rhomme  est  plus  penetrant  qne  consequent,  et  embrasse 
plus  qu'il  ue  peut  lier.i  — Vauvenargues. 

And  now  Maltravers  was  constantly  with  the  Merton 
family;  there  was  no  need  of  excuse  for  familiarity  on 
his  part.  Mr.  Merton,  charmed  to  find  his  advances  not 
rejected,  thrust  intimacy  upon  him. 

One  day  they  spent  the  afternoon  at  Burleigh,  and 
Evelyn  and  Caroline  finished  their  survey  of  the  house, 
—  tapestry  and  armor,  pictures  and  all.  This  led  to  a 
visit  to  the  Arabian  horses.  Caroline  observed  that  she 
was  very  fond  of  riding,  and  went  into  ecstasies  with 
one  of  the  animals, —  the  one,  of  course,  with  the  long- 
est tail.  The  next  day  the  horse  was  in  the  stables 
at  the  Rectory,  and  a  gallant  epistle  apologized  for  the 
costly  gift. 

Mr.  Merton  demurred,  but  Caroline  always  had  her 
own  way ;  and  so  the  horse  remained  (no  doubt,  in  much 
amazement  and  disdain)  with  the  parson's  pony  and  the 
brown  carriage-horses.  The  gift  naturally  conduced  to 
parties  on  horseback:  it  was  cruel  entirely  to  separate 
the  Arab  from  his  friends,  —  and  how  was  Evelyn  to  be 
left  behind?  —  Evelyn,  who  had  never  yet  ridden  any- 
thing more  spirited  than  an  old  pony.  A  beautiful 
little  horse  belonging  to  an  elderly  lady,  now  growing 
too  stout  to  ride,  was  to  be  sold  hard  by.  Maltravers 
discovered  the  treasure,  and  apprised  Mr.  Merton  of  it, 

1  The  spirit  of  man  is  more  penetrating  than  logical,  and  gathers 
more  than  it  can  garner. 


108  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

—  he  was  too  delicate  to  affect  liberality  to  the  rich 
heiress.  The  horse  was  bought;  nothing  could  go 
quieter,  —  Evelyn  was  not  at  all  afraid.  They  made 
two  or  three  little  excursions.  Sometimes  only  Mr. 
Merton  and  Maltravers  accompanied  the  young  ladies, 

—  sometimes  the  party  was  more  numerous.  Maltravers 
appeared  to  pay  equal  attention  to  Caroline  and  her 
friend,  —  still  Evelyn's  inexperience  in  equestrian  mat- 
ters was  an  excuse  for  his  being  ever  by  her  side.  They 
had  a  thousand  opportunities  to  converse;  and  Evelyn 
now  felt  more  at  home  with  him;  her  gentle  gayety, 
her  fanciful  yet  chastened  intellect,  found  a  voice. 
Maltravers  was  not  slow  to  discover  that  beneath  her 
simplicity  there  lurked  sense,  judgment,  and  imagina- 
tion. Insensibly  his  own  conversation  took  a  higher 
flight.  With  the  freedom  which  his  mature  years  and 
reputation  gave  him,  he  mingled  eloquent  instruction 
with  lighter  and  more  trifling  subjects;  he  directed  her 
earnest  and  docile  mind,  not  only  to  new  fields  of  writ- 
ten knowledge,  but  to  many  of  the  secrets  of  nature,  — 
subtle  or  sublime.  He  had  a  wide  range  of  scientific 
as  well  as  literary  lore:  the  stars,  the  flowers,  the  phe- 
nomena of  the  physical  world,  aflbrded  themes  on  which 
he  descanted  with  the  fervent  love  of  a  poet  and  the  easy 
knowledge  of  a  sage. 

Mr.  Merton,  observing  that  little  or  nothing  of  senti- 
ment mingled  with  their  familiar  intercourse,  felt  per- 
fectly at  ease;  and  knowing  that  Maltravers  had  been 
intimate  with  Lumley,  he  naturally  concluded  that  he 
was  aware  of  the  engagement  between  Evelyn  and  his 
friend.  Meanwhile,  Maltravers  appeared  unconscious 
that  such  a  being  as  Lord  Vargrave  existed. 

It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  daily  presence, 
the  delicate  flattery  of  attention  from  a  man  like  Mai- 


ALICE;   OK,    THE   MYSTEIUES.  109 

travers,     should   strongly    impress   the   imagination,    if 
not   the   heart  of  a  susceptible   girl.     Already    prepos- 
sessed  in   his    favor,    and    wholly    unaccustomed   to   a 
society   which    combined   so    many   attractions,  Evelyn 
reo^arded    him    with     unspeakable    veneration;    to   the 
darker    shades    in    his    character    she    was    blind, —  to 
her,  indeed,  they  did  not  appear.     True  that,  once  or 
twice   in  mixed  society,  his    disdainfid  and  imperious 
temper  broke  hastily  and    harshly  forth.     To  folly,  to 
pretension,  to  presumption,  he    showed  but  slight  for- 
bearance.    The  impatient  smile,  the  biting  sarcasm,  the 
cold  repulse,  that  might  gall,  yet  could  scarce  be  openly 
resented,  betrayed  that  he  was  one  who  affected  to  free 
himself  from   the    polished    restraints    of   social    inter- 
course.      He   had   once    been    too    scrupulous    in   not 
wounding   vanity;  he    was    now    too    indifl'erent  to  it. 
But  if  sometimes  this  unamiable  trait  of  character,  as 
displayed  to  others,  chilled  or  startled  Evelyn,  the  con- 
trast of  his   manner   towards   herself  was  a  flattery  too 
delicious  not  to  efftice  all  other  recollections.      To  her 
ear  his  voice  always  softened  its  tone;  to  her  capacity 
his  mind  ever  bent  as  by  sympathy,  —  not  condescen- 
sion; toiler,   the  young,  the  timid,  the  half-informed, 
—  to   her  alone  he  did  not  disdain  to  exhibit  all  the 
stores  of  his  knowledge,  all  the  best  and  brightest  colors 
of  his  mind.      She  modestly  wondered  at  so  strange  a 
preference.      Perhaps   a   sudden   and   blunt   compliment 
which  Maltravers  once  addressed  to  her  may  explain  it: 
one  day,  when  she  had  conversed  more  freely  and  more 
fully  than  usual,  he  broke  in  upon  her  with  this  abrupt 
exclamation,  — 

"  Miss  Cameron,  you  must  have  associated  from  your 
childhood  with  beautiful  minds.  I  see  already  that 
from  the  world,  vile  as  it  is,  you  have  nothing  of  con- 


110  ALICE  ;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES. 

tagion  to  fear.  I  have  heard  you  talk  on  the  most 
various  matters,  —  on  many  of  v^^hich  your  knowledge 
is  imperfect;  but  you  have  never  uttered  one  mean 
idea,  or  one  false  sentiment.  Truth  seems  intuitive  to 
you." 

It  was  indeed  this  singular  purity  of  heart  which 
made  to  the  world-wearied  man  the  chief  charm  in 
Evelyn  Cameron.  From  this  purity  came,  as  from  the 
heart  of  a  poet,  a  thousand  new  and  heaven-taught 
thoughts  which  had  in  them  a  wisdom  of  their  own,  — 
thoughts  that  often  brought  the  stern  listener  back  to 
youth,  and  reconciled  him  with  life.  The  wise  Mal- 
travers  learned  more  from  Evelyn  than  Evelyn  did  from 
Maltravers. 

There  was,  however,  another  trait  —  deeper  than  that 
of  temper  —  in   jMaltravers,  and  which  was,  unlike   the 
latter,  more  manifest  to  her  than  to  others:  his  con- 
tempt for  all  the  things  her  young  and  fresh  enthusiasm 
had  been  taught  to  prize,  —  the  fame  that  endeared  and 
hallowed  him  to  her  eyes,  the  excitement  of  ambition 
and  its  rewards.      He  spoke  with   such   bitter  disdain 
of  great  names  and  great  deeds.     "  Children  of  a  larger 
growth  they  were,"  said  he  one  day,  in  answer  to  her 
defence  of  the   luminaries  of  their  kind,    "allured   by 
bawbles  as  poor  as  the  rattle  and  the  doll's  house,  —  how 
many  have  been  made  great,  as  the  word  is,  by  their 
vices!    I'altry  craft  won  command  to  Themistocles.     To 
escape   his   duns,    the    profligate  Caesar  heads  an  army, 
and  achieves  his  laurels.     Brutus,  the  aristocrat,  stabs 
his  patron,  that  patricians  might  again  trample  on  ple- 
beians, and  that  posterity  might  talk  of  him.     The  lova 
of  posthumous  fame, —  what  is  it  but  as  puerile  a  pas- 
sion for  notoriety  as  that  which  made  a  Frenchman  I 
once  knew  lay  out  Iwj  thouaaud  pounds  in  sugar-plums? 


ALICE;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES.  Ill 

To  be  talked  of,  —  how  poor  a  desire !  Does  it  matter 
whether  it  be  by  the  gossips  of  this  age  or  the  next? 
Some  men  are  urged  on  to  fame  by  poverty,  —  that  is 
an  excuse  for  their  trouble ;  but  there  is  no  more  noble- 
ness in  the  motive  than  in  that  which  makes  yon  poor 
ploughman  sweat  iu  the  eye  of  Phoebus.  In  fact,  the 
larger  part  of  eminent  men,  instead  of  being  inspired  by 
any  lofty  desire  to  benefit  their  species,  or  enrich  the 
human  mind,  have  acted  or  composed  without  any  defi- 
nite object  beyond  tlie  satisfying  a  restless  appetite  for 
excitement,  or  indulging  the  dreams  of  a  selfish  glory. 
And  when  nobler  aspirations  have  fired  them,  it  has 
too  often  been  but  to  wild  fanaticism  and  sanguinary 
crime.  What  dupes  of  glory  ever  were  animated  by  a 
ieeper  faith,  a  higher  ambition,  than  the  frantic  fol- 
iowers  of  Mohammed  ?  —  taught  to  believe  that  it  was 
virtue  to  ravage  the  earth,  and  that  they  sprang  from 
the  battle-field  into  Paradise.  Religion  and  liberty, 
love  of  country,  —  what  splendid  motives  to  action! 
Lo,  the  results,  when  the  motives  are  keen,  the  ac- 
tion once  commenced!  Behold  the  Inquisition,  the 
Days  of  Terror,  the  Council  of  Ten,  and  the  Dungeons 
of  Venice!  " 

Evelyn  was  scarcely  fit  to  wrestle  with  these  melan- 
choly fallacies;  but  her  instinct  of  truth  suggested  an 
answer. 

"  What  would  society  be,  if  all  men  thought  as  you 
do,  and  acted  up  to  the  theory?  No  literature,  no  art, 
no  glory,  no  patriotism,  no  virtue,  no  civilization!  You 
analyze  men's  motives,  —  how  can  you  be  sure  you  judge 
rightly  ?  Look  to  the  results,  —  our  benefit,  our  en- 
lightenment! If  the  results  be  great,  ambition  is  a 
virtue,  no  matter  what  motive  awakened  it.     Is  it  not 

80?" 


112  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

Evelyn   spoke  blushingly  and  timidly.     Maltravers, 
despite  his  own  tenets,  was  delighted  with  her  reply. 

"You  reason  well,"  said  he,  with  a  smile.  "But 
how  are  we  sure  that  the  results  are  such  as  you  depict 
themi  Civilization,  enlightenment, — they  are  vague 
terms,  hollow  sounds.  Never  fear  that  the  world  will 
reason  as  I  do.  Action  will  never  be  stagnant  while 
there  are  such  things  as  gold  and  power.  The  vessel 
will  move  on,  —  let  the  galley-slaves  have  it  to  them- 
selves. What  I  have  seen  of  life  convinces  me  that 
progress  is  not  always  improvement.  Civilization  has 
evils  unknown  to  the  savage  state,  and  vlce-versd. 
Men  in  all  states  seem  to  have  much  the  same  propor- 
tion of  happiness.  We  judge  others  with  eyes  accus- 
tomed to  dwell  on  our  own  circumstances.  I  have  seen 
the  slave,  whom  we  commiserate,  enjoy  his  holiday  with 
a  rapture  unknown  to  the  grave  freeman.  I  have  seen 
that  slave  made  free,  and  enriched  by  the  benevolence 
of  his  master;  and  he  has  been  gay  no  more.  The 
masses  of  men  in  all  countries  are  much  the  same.  If 
there  are  greater  comforts  in  the  hardy  North,  Provi- 
dence bestows  a  fertile  earth  and  a  glorious  heaven,  and 
a  mind  susceptible  to  enjoyment  as  flowers  to  light,  on 
the  voluptuous  indulgence  of  the  Italian,  or  the  con- 
tented apathy  of  the  Hindoo.  In  the  mighty  organiza- 
tion of  good  and  evil,  what  can  we  vain  individuals 
effect?  They  who  labor  most,  how  doubtful  is  their 
reputation!  Who  shall  say  whether  Voltaire  or  Napo- 
leon, Cromwell  or  Caesar,  Walpole  or  Pitt,  has  done 
most  good  or  most  evil?  It  is  a  question  casuists  may 
dispute  on.  Some  of  us  think  that  poets  have  been  the 
delight  and  the  lights  of  men.  Another  school  of  phi- 
losophy has  treated  them  as  the  corrupters  of  the  species, 
—  panders  to  the  false  glory  of  war,  to  the  effeminacies 


ALICE;    OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  llo 

of  taste,  to  the  pampering  of  the  passions  above  the 
reason.  Nay,  even  those  who  have  effected  inventions 
that  change  the  face  of  the  earth,  —  the  printing-press, 
gunpowder,  the  steam-engine, —  men  hailed  as  benefactors 
by  the  unthinking  herd ,  or  the  would-be  sages,  —  have 
introduced  ills  unknown  before,  adulterating  and  often 
counterbalancing  the  good.  Each  new  improvement  in 
machinery  deprives  hundreds  of  food.  Civilization  is 
the  eternal  sacrifice  of  one  generation  to  the  next.  An 
awful  sense  of  the  impotence  of  human  agencies  has 
crushed  down  the  sublime  aspirations  for  mankind 
which  I  once  indulged.  For  myself,  I  float  on  the 
great  waters,  without  pilot  or  rudder,  and  trust  pas- 
sively to  the  winds,  that  are  the  breath  of  God." 

This  conversation  left  a  deep  impression  upon  Evelyn; 
it  inspired  her  with  a  new  interest  in  one  in  whom  so 
many  noble  qualities  lay  dulled  and  torpid  by  the  in- 
dulgence of  a  self-sophistry,  which,  girl  as  she  was,  she 
felt  wholly  unworthy  of  his  powers.  And  it  was  this 
error  in  Maltravers  that,  levelling  his  superiority, 
brought  him  nearer  to  her  heart.  Ah!  if  she  could 
restore  him  to  his  race !  —  it  was  a  dangerous  desire, 
but  it  intoxicated  and  absorbed  her. 

Oh,  how  sweetly  were  those  fair  evenings  spent,  — 
the  evenings  of  happy  June!  And  then,  as  Maltravers 
suffered  the  children  to  tease  him  into  talk  about  the 
wonders  he  had  seen  in  the  regions  far  away,  how  did 
the  soft  and  social  hues  of  his  character  unfold  them- 
selves! There  is  in  all  real  genius  so  much  latent  play- 
fulness of  nature,  it  almost  seems  as  if  genius  never 
could  grow  old.  The  inscription  that  youth  writes 
upon  the  tablets  of  an  imaginative  mind  are,  indeed, 
never  wholly  obliterated,  —  they  are  as  an  invisible 
writing,    which    gradually   becomes  clear  in  the    light 

8 


114  ALICE;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES. 

and  warmth.  Bring  genius  familiarly  with  the  young, 
and  it  is  as  young  as  they  are.  Evelyn  did  not  yet 
therefore  observe  the  disparity  of  years  between  herself 
and  Maltravers.  But  the  disparity  of  knowledge  and 
power  served  for  the  present  to  interdict  to  her  that 
sweet  feeling  of  equality  in  commune,  without  which 
love  is  rarely  a  very  intense  affection  in  women.  It  is 
not  so  with  men.  But  by  degrees  she  grew  more  and 
more  familiar  with  her  stern  friend ;  and  in  that  famil- 
iarity there  was  perilous  fascination  to  Maltravers.  She 
could  laugh  him  at  any  moment  out  of  his  most  moody 
reveries;  contradict  with  a  pretty  wilfulness  his  most 
favorite  dogmas, — nay,  even  scold  him,  with  bewitch- 
ing gravity,  if  he  was  not  always  at  the  command  of  her 
wishes,  or  caprice.  At  this  time  it  seemed  certain  that 
Maltravers  would  fall  in  love  with  Evelyn ;  but  it  rested 
on  more  doubtful  probabilities  whether  Evelyn  would 
fall  in  love  with  him. 


ALICE;  OK,   THE   MYSTERIES.  115 


CHAPTER  VII. 


Contrahe  vela, 
Et  te  littoribus  cymba  propinqua  vehat.^ 


Seneca, 


"  Has  not  Miss  Cameron  a  beautiful  countenance  ? " 
said  Mr.  Merton  to  Maltravers,  as  Evelyn,  unconscious 
of  the  compliment,  sat  at  a  little  distance,  bending  down 
lier  eyes  to  Sophy,  who  was  weaving  daisy-chains  on  a 
stool  at  her  knee,  and  whom  she  was  telling  not  to  talk 
loud,  —  for  Merton  had  been  giving  Maltravers  some 
useful  information  respecting  the  management  of  his 
estate;  and  Evelyn  was  already  interested  in  all  that 
could  interest  her  friend.  She  had  one  excellent  thing 
in  woman,  had  Evelyn  Cameron:  despite  her  sunny 
cheerfulness  of  temper  she  was  qiiiet ;  and  she  had 
insensibly  acquired,  under  the  roof  of  her  musing  and 
silent  mother,  the  habit  of  never  disturbing  others. 
"What  a  blessed  secret  is  that  in  the  intercourse  of 
domestic  life! 

"  Has  not  Miss  Cameron  a  beautiful  countenance  ?  " 

Maltravers  started  at  the  question :  it  was  a  literal 
translation  of  his  own  thought  at  that  moment.  He 
checked  the  enthusiasm  that  rose  to  his  lip,  and  calmly 
re-echoed  the  word,  — 

"Beautiful,  indeed!" 

"  And  so  sweet-tempered  and  unaffected,  —  she  has 
been  admirably  brought  up.  I  believe  Lady  Vargrave 
is  a  most  exemplary  woman.     Miss  Cameron  will,  in- 

1  Furl  your  sails,  and  let  the  next  boat  carrj-  you  to  the  shore. 


116  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

deed,  be  a  treasure  to  her  betrothed  husband.     He  is  to 
be  envied." 

"Her  betrothed  husband!"  said  Maltravers,  turning 
very  pale. 

"  Yes ;  Lord  Vargrave.  Did  you  not  know  that  she 
was  engaged  to  him  from  her  childhood?  It  Avas  the 
wish,  nay,  command  of  the  late  lord,  who  bequeathed 
her  his  vast  fortune,  if  not  on  that  condition,  at  least 
on  that  understanding.  Did  you  never  hear  of  this 
before  1 " 

While  !Mr.  Merton  spoke,  a  sudden  recollection  re- 
turned to  Maltravers.  He  had  heard  Lumley  himself 
refer  to  the  engagement,  but  it  had  been  in  the  sick 
chamber  of  Florence,  —  little  heeded  at  the  time,  and 
swept  from  his  mind  by  a  thousand  after-thoughts  and 
scenes.     Mr.   Merton  continued, — 

"  We  expect  Lord  Vargrave  down  soon.  He  is  an 
ardent  lover,  I  conclude ;  but  public  life  chains  him  so 
much  to  London.  He  made  an  tidrairable  speech  in  the 
Lords  last  night;  at  least  our  party  appear  to  think  so. 
They  are  to  be  married  when  Miss  Cameron  attains  the 
age  of  eighteen." 

Accustomed  to  endurance,  and  skilled  in  the  proud  art 
of  concealing  emotion,  Maltravers  betrayed  to  the  eye  of 
Mr.  Merton  no  symptom  of  surprise  or  dismay  at  this 
intelligence.  If  the  rector  had  conceived  any  previous 
suspicion  that  Maltravers  was  touched  beyond  mere 
admiration  for  beauty,  the  suspicion  would  have  van- 
ished, as  he  heard  his  guest  coldly  reply,  — 

"  I  trust  Lord  Vargrave  may  deserve  his  happiness. 
But,  to  return  to  Mr.  Justis,  you  corroborate  my  own 
opinion  of  that  smooth-spoken  gentleman." 

The  conversation  flowed  back  to  business.  At  last 
Maltravers  rose  to  depart. 


ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  117 

"  Will  you  not  dine  with  us  to-day  ?  "  said  the  hos- 
itable  rector. 

"  Many  thanks ,  —  no ;  I  have  much  business  to  attend 
to  at  home  for  some  days  to  come." 

"Kiss  Sophy,  Mr.  Ernest,  —  Sophy  very  good  girl 
to-day.  Let  the  pretty  butterfly  go,  because  Evy  said 
it  was  cruel  to  put  it  in  a  card-box;  kiss  Sophy." 

Maltravers  took  the  child  (whose  heart  he  had  com- 
pletely won)  in  his  arms,  and  kissed  her  tenderly;  then, 
advancing  to  Evelyn,  he  held  out  his  hand,  while  his 
eyes  were  fixed  upon  her  with  an  expression  of  deep  and 
mournful  interest  which  she  could  not  understand. 

"  God  bless  you,  Miss  Cameron !  "  he  said,  and  his  lip 
quivered. 

Days  passed,  and  they  saw  no  more  of  Maltravers. 
He  excused  himself  on  pretence,  now  of  business,  now 
of  other  engagements,  from  all  the  invitations  of  the 
rector.  Mr.  Merton  unsuspectingly  accepted  the  ex- 
cuse ;  for  he  knew  that  Maltravers  was  necessarily  much 
occupied. 

His  arrival  had  now  spread  throughout  the  country; 
and  such  of  his  equals  as  were  still  in  B shire  has- 
tened to  offer  congratulations,  and  press  hospitality. 
Perhaps  it  was  the  desire  to  make  his  excuses  to  Merton 
valid  which  prompted  the  master  of  Burleigh  to  yield 
to  the  other  invitations  that  crowded  on  him.  But  tliis 
was  not  all,  —  Maltravers  acquired  in  the  neighborhood 
the  reputation  of  a  man  of  business.  Mr.  Justis  was 
abruptly  dismissed;  with  the  help  of  a  bailiff,  Mal- 
travers became  his  own  steward.  His  parting  address 
to  this  personage  was  characteristic  of  the  mingled 
harshness  and  justice  of  Maltravers. 

"  Sir,"  said  he,  as  they  closed  their  accounts,  "  I  dis- 
charge you  because  you  are  a  rascal,  —  there  can  be  no 


118  ALICE;   OR,   THE  MYSTERIES. 

dispute  about  that:  you  have  plundered  your  owner,  yet 
you  have  ground  his  tenants,  and  neglected  the  poor. 
My  villages  are  filled  with  paupers;  my  rent-roll  is 
reduced  a  fourth,  —  and  yet  while  some  of  my  tenants 
appear  to  pay  nominal  rents  (why,  you  best  know), 
others  are  screwed  up  higher  than  any  man's  in  the 
county.  You  are  a  rogue,  Mr.  Justis,  —  your  own 
account-books  show  it;  and  if  I  send  them  to  a  lawyer, 
you  would  have  to  refund  a  sum  that  I  could  apply  very 
advantageously  to  the  rectification  of  your  blunders." 

"  I  hope,  sir,"  said  the  steward,  conscience-stricken 
and  appalled,  —  "I  hope  you  will  not  ruin  me ;  indeed, 
—  indeed,  if  I  was  called  upon  to  refund,  I  should  go 
to  jail." 

"  Make  yourself  easy,  sir.  It  is  just  that  I  should 
suffer  as  well  as  you.  My  neglect  of  my  own  duties 
tempted  you  to  roguery ;  you  were  honest  under  the 
vigilant  eye  of  Mr.  Cleveland.  Retire  with  your  gains. 
If  you  are  quite  hardened,  no  punishment  can  touch  you ; 
if  you  are  not,  it  is  punishment  enough  to  stand  there 
gray-haired,  with  one  foot  in  the  grave,  and  hear  your- 
self called  a  rogue,  and  know  that  you  cannot  defend 
yourself.     Go!" 

Maltravers  next  occupied  himself  in  all  the  affairs  that 
a  mismanaged  estate  brought  upon  him.  He  got  rid  of 
some  tenants;  he  made  new  arrangements  with  others; 
he  called  labor  into  requisition  by  a  variety  of  improve- 
ments; he  paid  minute  attention  to  the  poor,  not  in  tlie 
weakness  of  careless  and  indiscriminate  charity ,  by  which 
popularity  is  so  cheaply  purchased,  and  independence  so 
easily  degraded:  no,  his  main  care  was  to  stimulate  in- 
dustry and  raise  hope.  The  ambition  and  emulation 
that  he  so  vainly  denied  in  himself,  he  found  his  most 
useful  levers  in  the  humble  laborers  whose  characters  he 


ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  119 

had  studied,  whose  condition  he  sought  to  make  them- 
selves desire  to  elevate.  Unconsciously  his  whole  prac- 
tice began  to  refute  his  theories.  The  abuses  of  the 
old  poor-laws  were  rife  in  his  neighborhood;  his  quick 
penetration,  and  perhaps  his  imperious  habits  of  deci- 
sion, suggested  to  him  many  of  the  best  provisions  of 
the  law  now  called  into  operation ;  but  he  was  too  wise 
to  be  the  Philosopher  Square  of  a  system.  He  did  not 
attempt  too  much;  and  he  recognized  one  principle 
which,  as  yet,  the  administrators  of  the  new  poor-laws 
have  not  sufficiently  discovered.  One  main  object  of 
the  new  code  was,  by  curbing  public  charity,  to  task  the 
activity  of  individual  benevolence.  If  the  proprietor 
or  the  clergyman  find  under  his  own  eye  isolated  in- 
stances of  severity,  oppression,  or  hardship  in  a  general 
and  salutary  law,  instead  of  railing  against  the  law,  he 
ought  to  attend  to  the  individual  instances;  and  private 
benevolence  ought  to  keep  the  balance  of  the  scales  even, 
and  be  the  make-weight  wherever  there  is  a  just  defi- 
ciency of  national  charity.^  It  was  this  which,  in  the 
modified  and  discreet  regulations  that  he  sought  to 
establish  on  his  estates,  Maltravers  especially  and 
pointedly  attended  to.  Age,  infirmity,  temporary  dis- 
tress, unmerited  destitution,  found  him  a  steady,  watch- 
ful, indefatigable  friend.  In  these  labors,  commenced 
with  extraordinary  promptitude,  and  the  energy  of  a 
single  purpose  and  stern  mind,  Maltravers  was  neces- 
sarily brought  into  contact  with  the  neighboring  mag- 

1  The  object  of  parochial  reform  is  not  that  of  economy  alone, 
not  merely  to  reduce  poor-rates.  The  rate-payer  ought  to  remem- 
ber that  the  more  he  wrests  from  the  gripe  of  the  sturdy  mendi- 
cant, the  more  he  ought  to  bestow  on  undeserved  distress.  With- 
out the  mitigations  of  private  virtue,  every  law  that  benevolists 
could  make  would  be  harsh. 


120  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

istrates  and  gentry.  He  was  combating  evils  and 
advancing  objects  in  which  all  were  interested;  and 
his  vigorous  sense,  and  his  past  parliamentary  reputa- 
tion, joined  with  the  respect  which  in  provinces  always 
attaches  to  ancient  birth,  won  unexpected  and  general 
favor  to  his  views.  At  the  Rectory  they  heard  of  him 
constantly,  not  only  through  occasional  visitors,  but 
through  Mr.  Merton,  who  was  ever  thrown  in  his  way; 
but  he  continued  to  keep  himself  aloof  from  the  house. 
Every  one  (Mr.  Merton  excepted)  missed  him;  even 
Caroline,  whose  able  though  worldly  mind  could  appre- 
ciate his  conversation;  the  children  mourned  for  their 
playmate,  who  was  so  much  more  affable  than  their 
own  stiff-neckclothed  brothers ;  and  Evelyn  was  at  least 
more  serious  and  thoughtful  than  she  had  ever  been 
before,  and  the  talk  of  others  seemed  to  her  wearisome, 
trite,  and  dull. 

Was  Maltravers  happy  in  his  new  pursuits?  His 
state  of  mind  at  that  time  it  is  not  easy  to  read.  His 
masculine  spirit  and  haughty  temper  were  wrestling  hard 
against  a  feeling  that  had  been  fast  ripening  into  pas- 
sion ;  but  at  night,  in  his  solitary  and  cheerless  home, 
a  vision,  too  exquisite  to  indulge,  would  force  itself 
upon  him,  till  he  started  from  the  reverie  and  said  to 
his  rebellious  heart,  "  A  few  more  years,  and  thou  wilt 
be  still.  "What,  in  this  brief  life,  is  a  pang  more  or 
less?  Better  to  have  nothing  to  care  for,  so  wilt  thou 
defraud  Fate,  thy  deceitful  foe !  Be  contented  that  thou 
art  alone !  " 

Fortunate  was  it,  then,  for  Maltravers,  that  he  was 
in  his  native  land  !  —  not  in  climes  where  excitement  is 
in  the  pursuit  of  pleasure  rather  than  in  the  exercise  of 
duties.  In  the  hardy  air  of  the  liberal  England  he  was 
already,  though  unknown  to  himself,  bracing  and  en- 


ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  121 

nobling  his  dispositions  and  desires.  It  is  the  boast  of 
this  island  that  the  slave  whose  foot  touches  the  soil  is 
free.  The  boast  may  be  enlarged.  Where  so  much  is 
left  to  the  people,  —  where  the  life  of  civilization,  not 
locked  up  in  the  tyranny  of  central  despotism,  spreads, 
vivifying,  restless,  ardent,  through  every  vein  of  the 
healthful  body, —  the  most  distant  province,  the  obscur- 
est village,  has  claims  on  our  exertions,  our  duties,  and 
forces  us  into  energy  and  citizenship.  The  spirit  of 
liberty,  that  strikes  the  chain  from  the  slave,  binds  the 
freeman  to  his  brother.  This  is  the  religion  of  freedom. 
And  hence  it  is  that  the  stormy  struggles  of  free  states 
have  been  blessed  with  results  of  virtue,  of  wisdom,  and 
of  genius,  by  Him  who  bade  us  love  one  another,  —  not 
only  that  love  in  itself  is  excellent,  but  that  from  love, 
which  in  its  widest  sense  is  but  the  spiritual  term  for 
liberty,  whatever  is  worthiest  of  our  solemn  nature  has 
its  birth. 


BOOK  III. 


Tpaxfa  ^eialfei,  iravei  K6pov. 

Ex.  Solon.  Eleg. 

Harsh  things  he  mitigates,  and  pride  subdues. 


BOOK  III. 


CHAPTER  I. 

You  still  are  what  you  were,  sir ! 

With  most  quick  agility  could  turn 
And  return ;  make  knots  and  undo  them  — 

Give  forked  counsel. 

Volpone,  or  the  Fox. 

Before  a  large  table  covered  with  parliamentary  papers, 
sat  Lumley,  Lord  Vargrave.  His  complexion,  though 
still  healthy,  had  faded  from  the  freshness  of  hue  which 
distinguished  him  in  youth.  His  features,  always 
sharp,  had  grown  yet  more  angular;  his  brows  seemed  to 
project  more  broodingly  over  his  eyes,  which,  though  of 
undiminished  brightness,  were  sunk  deep  in  their  sock- 
ets, and  had  lost  much  of  their  quick  restlessness.  The 
character  of  his  mind  had  begun  to  stamp  itself  on  the 
physiognomy,  especially  on  the  mouth  Avhen  in  repose: 
it  was  a  face  striking  for  acute  intelligence,  for  con- 
centrated energy ;  but  there  was  a  something  written  in 
it  which  said,  "Beware!"  It  would  have  inspired 
any  one  who  had  mixed  much  amongst  men  with  a 
vague  suspicion  and  distrust. 

Lumley  had  been  always  careful,  though  plain,  in 
dress ;  but  there  was  now  a  more  evident  attention  be- 
stowed on  his  person  than  he  had  ever  manifested  in 
youth;  while  there  was  something  of  the  Roman's  cele- 


126  ALICE;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES. 

brated  foppery  in  the  skill  with  which  his  hair  was  ar- 
ranged on  his  high  forehead,  so  as  either  to  conceal  or 
relieve  a  partial  baldness  at  the  temples.  Perhaps,  too, 
from  the  possession  of  high  station,  or  the  habit  of  living 
only  amongst  the  great,  there  was  a  certain  dignity  in- 
sensibly diffused  over  his  whole  person  that  was  not 
noticeable  in  his  earlier  years,  —  when  a  certain  ton  de 
garnison  was  blended  with  his  ease  of  manners;  yet 
even  now  dignity  was  not  his  prevalent  characteristic, 
and  in  ordinary  occasions,  or  mixed  society,  he  still 
found  a  familiar  frankness  a  more  useful  species  of 
simulation.  At  the  time  we  now  treat  of,  Lord  Var- 
grave  was  leaning  his  cheek  on  one  hand,  while  the  other 
rested  idly  on  the  papers  methodically  arranged  before 
him.  He  appeared  to  have  suspended  his  labors,  and 
to  be  occupied  in  thought.  It  was,  in  truth,  a  critical 
period  in  the  career  of  Lord  Vargrave. 

From  the  date  of  his  accession  to  the  peerage,  the  rise 
of  Lumley  Ferrers  had  been  less  rapid  and  progressive 
than  he  himself  could  have  foreseen.  At  first,  all  was 
sunshine  before  him:  he  had  contrived  to  make  himself 
useful  to  his  party ;  he  had  al.so  made  himself  person- 
ally popular.  To  the  ease  and  cordiality  of  his  happy 
address,  he  added  the  seemingly  careless  candor  so  often 
mistaken  for  honesty;  while,  as  there  was  nothing 
showy  or  brilliant  in  his  abilities  or  oratory,  —  nothing 
that  aspired  far  above  the  pretensions  of  others,  and 
aroused  envy  by  mortifying  self-love,  —  he  created  but 
little  jealousy  even  amongst  the  rivals  before  whom  he 
obtained  precedence.  For  some  time,  therefore,  he  went 
smoothly  on,  continuing  to  rise  in  the  estimation  of  his 
party,  and  commanding  a  certain  respect  from  the  neutral 
public,  by  acknowledged  and  eminent  talents  in  the 
details  of   business;  for  his  quickness   of  penetration, 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  127 

and  a  logical  habit  of  mind,  enabled  him  to  grapple 
with,  and  generalize  the  minutiae  of  official  labor,  or  of 
legislative  enactments,  with  a  masterly  success.  But  as 
the  road  became  clearer  to  his  steps,  his  ambition  be- 
came more  evident  and  daring.  Naturally  dictatorial 
and  presumptuous,  his  early  suppleness  to  superiors 
was  now  exchanged  for  a  self-willed  pertinacity  which 
often  displeased  the  more  haughty  leaders  of  his  party, 
and  often  wounded  the  more  vain.  His  pretensions 
were  scanned  with  eyes  more  jealous  and  less  tolerant 
than  at  first.  Proud  aristocrats  began  to  recollect  that 
a  mushi'oom  peerage  was  supported  but  by  a  scanty 
fortune;  the  men  of  more  dazzling  genius  began  to  sneer 
at  the  red-tape  minister  as  a  mere  official  manager  of 
details;  he  lost  much  of  the  personal  popularity  which 
had  been  one  secret  of  his  power.  But  what  principally 
injured  him  in  the  eyes  of  his  party  and  the  public 
Avere  certain  ambiguous  and  obscure  circumstances  con- 
nected with  a  short  period  when  himself  and  his  asso- 
ciates were  thrown  out  of  office.  At  this  time  it  was 
noticeable  that  the  journals  of  the  government  that 
succeeded  were  peculiarly  polite  to  Lord  Vargrave, 
while  they  covered  all  his  coadjutors  with  obloquy;  and 
it  was  more  than  suspected  that  secret  negotiations  be- 
tween himself  and  the  new  ministry  were  going  on, 
when  suddenly  the  latter  broke  up,  and  Lord  Var- 
grave's  proper  party  were  reinstated.  The  vague  sus- 
picions that  attached  to  Vargrave  were  somewhat 
strengthened  in  the  opinion  of  the  public  by  the  fact 
that  he  was  at  first  left  out  of  the  restored  administra- 
tion; and  when  subsequently,  after  a  speech  which 
showed  that  he  could  be  mischievous  if  not  propitiated, 
he  was  re-admitted,  it  was  precisely  to  the  same  office 
he  had  held  before,  —  an  office  which  did  not  admit  him 


128  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES. 

into  the  Cabinet.  Lumley,  burning  with  resentment, 
longed  to  decline  the  offer:  but  alas!  he  was  poor, 
and  what  was  worse,  in  debt:  "  his  poverty,  but  not  his 
will,  consented."  He  was  reinstated;  but  though  pro- 
digiously improved  as  a  debater,  he  felt  that  he  had  not 
advanced  as  a  public  man.  His  ambition  inflamed  by 
his  discontent,  he  had,  since  his  return  to  office,  strained 
every  nerve  to  strengthen  his  position.  He  met  the 
sarcasms  on  his  poverty  by  greatly  increasing  his  expen- 
diture, and  by  advertising  everywhere  his  engagement 
to  an  heiress  whose  fortune,  great  as  it  was,  he  easily 
contrived  to  magnify.  As  his  old  house  in  Great 
George  Street  —  well  fitted  for  the  bustling  commoner 

—  was  no  longer  suited  to  the  official  and  fashionable 
peer,  he  had,  on  his  accession  to  the  title,  exchanged 
that  respectable  residence  for  a  large  mansion  in  Ham- 
ilton Place;  and  his  sober  dinners  were  succeeded  by 
splendid  banquets.  Naturally,  he  had  no  taste  for  such 
things:  his  mind  was  too  nervous,  and  his  temper  too 
hard,  to  take  pleasure  in  luxury  or  ostentation.  But, 
now,  as  ever,  he  acted  iipon  a  system.  Living  in  a 
country  governed  by  the  mightiest  and  wealthiest  aris- 
tocracy  in  the  world,  which,  from  the  first  class  almost 
to  the  lowest,  ostentation  pervades,  —  the  very  backbone 
and  marrow  of  society,  —  he  felt  that  to  fall  far  short  of 
his  rivals  in  display  was  to  give  them  an  advantage  which 
he  could  not  compensate  either  by  the  power  of  his 
connections  or  the  surpassing  loftiness  of  his  character 
and  genius.  Playing  for  a  great  game,  and  with  his 
eyes  open  to  all  the  consequences,  he  cared  not  for  in- 
volving his  private  fortunes  in  a  lottery  in  which  a 
great  prize  might  be  drawn.  To  do  Vargrave  justice, 
money  with  him  had  never  been  an  object,  but  a  means, 

—  he  was  grasping,  but  not  avaricious.     If  men  much 


ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  129 

richer  than  Lord  Vargrave  find  state  distinctions  very- 
expensive,  and  often  ruinous,  it  is  not  to  be  supposed 
that  his  salary,  joined  to  so  moderate  a  private  fortune, 
could  support  the  style  in  which  he  lived.  His  income 
was  already  deeply  mortgaged,  and  debt  accumulated 
upon  debt.  'Nov  had  this  man,  so  eminent  for  the  man- 
agement of  public  business,  any  of  that  talent  which 
springs  from  Justice,  and  makes  its  possessor  a  skilful 
manager  of  his  own  affairs.  Perpetually  absorbed  in 
intrigues  and  schemes,  he  was  too  much  engaged  in 
cheating  others  on  a  large  scale  to  have  time  to  prevent 
being  himself  cheated  on  a  small  one.  He  never  looked 
into  bills  till  he  was  compelled  to  pay  them;  and  he 
never  calculated  the  amount  of  an  expense  that  seemed 
the  least  necessary  to  his  purposes.  But  still  Lord 
Vargrave  relied  upon  his  marriage  with  the  wealthy 
Evelyn  to  relieve  him  from  all  his  embarrassments ; 
and  if  a  doubt  of  the  realization  of  that  vision  ever 
occurred  to  him,  still  public  life  had  splendid  prizes. 
Nay,  should  he  fail  with  Miss  Cameron,  he  even  thought 
that  by  good  management  he  might  ultimately  make  it 
worth  while  to  his  colleagues  to  purchase  his  absence 
with  the  gorgeous  bribe  of  the  governor-generalship  of 
India. 

As  oratory  is  an  art  in  which  practice  and  the  dignity 
of  station  produce  marvellous  improvement,  so  Lumley 
had  of  late  made  effects  in  the  House  of  Lords  of  which 
he  had  once  been  judged  incapable.  It  is  true  that  no 
practice  and  no  station  can  give  men  qualities  in  which 
they  are  wholly  deficient;  but  these  advantages  can 
bring  out  in  the  best  light  all  the  qualities  they  do 
possess.  The  glow  of  a  generous  imagination ,  the  grasp 
of  a  profound  statesmanship,  the  enthusiasm  of  a  noble 
nature, — these  no   practice  could  educe  from  the  elo- 

9 


130  ALICE  ;   OR,    THE   MYSTERIES. 

quence  of  Lumley,  Lord  Vargrave,  for  he  had  them  not.; 
but  bold  wit,  fluent  and  vigorous  sentences,  effective 
arrangement  of  parliamentary  logic,  readiness  of  retort, 
plausibility  of  manner,  aided  by  a  delivery  peculiar  for 
self-possession  and  ease,  a  clear  and  ringing  voice  (to 
the  only  fault  of  which,  shrillness  without  passion, 
the  ear  of  the  audience  had  grown  accustomed) ,  and  a 
countenance  impressive  from  its  courageous  intelligence, 
—  all  these  had  raised  the  promising  speaker  into  the 
matured  excellence  of  a  nervous  and  formidable  debater. 
But  precisely  as  he  rose  in  the  display  of  his  talents, 
did  he  awaken  envies  and  enmities  hitherto  dormant. 
And  it  must  be  added  that,  with  all  his  craft  and  cold- 
ness, Lord  Vargrave  was  often  a  very  dangerous  and 
mischievous  Speaker  for  the  interests  of  his  party.  His 
colleagues  had  often  cause  to  tremble  when  he  rose: 
nay,  even  when  the  cheers  of  his  own  faction  shook 
the  old  tapestried  walls.  A  man  who  has  no  sympathy 
with  the  public  must  commit  many  and  fatal  indiscre- 
tions when  the  public,  as  well  as  his  audience,  is  to  be 
his  judge.  Lord  Vargrave's  utter  incapacity  to  compre- 
hend political  morality,  his  contempt  for  all  the  ob- 
jects of  social  benevolence,  frequently  led  him  into  the 
avowal  of  doctrines  which,  if  they  did  not  startle  the 
men  of  the  world  whom  he  addressed  (smoothed  away, 
as  such  doctrines  were,  by  speciousness  of  manner  and 
delivery),  created  deep  disgust  in  those,  even  of  his 
own  politics,  who  read  their  naked  exposition  in  the 
daily  papers.  Never  did  Lord  Vargrave  utter  one  of 
those  generous  sentiments  which,  no  matter  whether 
propounded  by  Radical  or  Tory,  sink  deep  into  the  heart 
of  the  people,  and  do  lasting  service  to  the  cause  they 
adorn ;  but  no  man  defended  an  abuse,  however  glar- 
ing, with  a  more  vigorous  championship,  or  hurled  defi- 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTEiaES.  131 

ance  upon  a  popular  demand  with  a  more  courageous 
scorn.  In  some  times,  when  the  anti-popular  principle 
is  strong,  such  a  leader  may  be  useful ;  but  at  the  mo- 
ment of  which  we  treat,  he  was  a  most  equivocal  auxil- 
iary. A  considerable  proportion  of  the  ministers, 
headed  by  the  premier  himself,  a  man  of  wise  views  and 
unimpeachable  honor,  had  learned  to  view  Lord  Var- 
grave  with  dislike  and  distrust.  They  might  have 
sought  to  get  rid  of  him,  but  he  was  not  one  whom 
slight  mortifications  could  induce  to  retire  of  his  own 
accord ;  nor  was  the  sarcastic  and  bold  debater  a  per- 
son whose  resentment  and  opposition  could  be  despised. 
Lord  Vargrave,  moreover,  had  secured  a  party  of  his 
own,  —  a  party  more  formidable  than  himself.  He 
went  largely  into  society;  he  was  the  special  favorite 
of  the  female  diplomats,  whose  voices  at  that  time  were 
powerful  suffrages,  and  with  whom,  by  a  thousand  links 
of  gallantry  and  intrigue,  the  agreeable  and  courteous 
minister  formed  a  close  alliance.  All  that  salons  could 
do  for  him  was  done.  Added  to  this,  he  was  personally 
liked  by  his  royal  master,  and  the  Court  gave  him  their 
golden  opinions;  while  the  poorer,  the  corrupter,  and 
the  more  bigoted  portion  of  the  ministry  regarded  him 
with  avowed  admiration. 

In  the  House  of  Commons,  too,  and  in  the  bureau- 
cracy, he  had  no  inconsiderable  strength;  for  Lumley 
never  contracted  the  habits  of  personal  abruptness  and 
discourtesy  common  to  men  in  power  who  wish  to  keep 
applicants  aloof.  He  was  bland  and  conciliating  to  all 
men  of  all  ranks;  his  intellect  and  self-complacency 
raised  him  far  above  the  petty  jealousies  that  great  men 
feel  for  rising  men.  Did  any  tyro  earn  the  smallest 
distinction  in  Parliament,  no  man  sought  his  acquaint- 
ance so  eagerly  as  Lord  Vargrave;  no  man  cuiuplimented, 


132  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

encouraged,  "  brought  on  "  the  new  aspirants  of  his 
party,  with  so  hearty  a  good-will. 

Such  a  minister  could  not  fail  of  having  devoted 
followers  among  the  able,  the  ambitious,  and  the  vain. 
It  must  also  be  confessed  that  Lord  Vargrave  neglected 
no  baser  and  less  justifiable  means  to  cement  his  power, 
l)y  placing  it  on  the  sure  rock  of  self-interest.  No  job- 
bing was  too  gross  for  him.  He  was  shamefully  corrupt 
in  the  disposition  of  his  patronage;  and  no  rebuffs,  no 
taunts  from  his  official  brethren,  could  restrain  him  from 
urging  the  claims  of  any  of  his  creatures  upon  the  public 
purse.  His  followers  regarded  this  charitable  selfish- 
ness as  the  stanchness  and  zeal  of  friendship;  and  the 
ambition  of  hundreds  was  wound  up  in  the  ambition  of 
the  unprincipled  minister. 

But  besides  the  notoriety  of  his  public  corruption, 
Lord  Vargrave  was  secretly  suspected  by  some  of  per- 
sonal dishonesty, —  suspected  of  selling  his  state  informa- 
tion to  stock-jobbers;  of  having  pecuniary  interests  in 
some  of  the  claims  he  urged  with  so  obstinate  a  perti- 
nacity. And  though  there  was  not  the  smallest  evidence 
of  such  utter  abandonment  of  honor,  though  it  was  prob- 
ably but  a  calumnious  whisper,  yet  the  mere  suspi- 
cion of  such  practices  served  to  sharpen  the  aversion  of 
his  enemies,  and  justify  the  disgust  of  his  rivals. 

In  this  position  now  stood  Lord  Vargrave ;  supported 
by  interested,  but  able  and  powerful  partisans;  hated 
in  the  country ;  feared  by  some  of  those  with  whom  he 
served;  despised  by  others,  looked  up  to  by  the  rest. 
It  was  a  situation  that  less  daunted  than  delighted 
him ;  for  it  seemed  to  render  necessary  and  excuse  the 
haVjits  of  sclieming  and  manoeuvre  which  were  so  genial 
to  liis  crafty  and  plotting  temper.  Like  an  ancient 
Greek,    his   spirit   loved   intrigue   for  intrigue's   sake. 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  133 

Had  it  led  to  no  end,  it  would  still  have  been  sweet  to 
him  as  a  means.  He  rejoiced  to  surround  himself  with 
the  most  complicated  webs  and  meshes,  —  to  sit  in  the 
centre  of  a  million  plots.  He  cared  not  how  rash  and 
wild  some  of  them  were.  Pie  relied  on  his  oAvn  inge- 
nuity, promptitude,  and  habitual  good  fortune,  to  make 
every  spring  he  handled  conducive  to  the  purpose  of  the 
machine,  —  self. 

His  last  visit  to  Lady  Vargrave,  and  his  conversation 
with  Evelyn,  had  left  on  his  mind  much  dissatisfaction 
and  fear.  In  the  earlier  years  of  his  intercourse  with 
Evelyn,  his  good-humor,  gallantry,  and  presents  had 
not  failed  to  attach  the  child  to  the  agreeable  and  liberal 
visitor  she  had  been  taught  to  regard  as  a  relation.  It 
was  only  as  she  grew  up  to  womanhood,  and  learned  to 
comprehend  the  nature  of  the  tie  between  them,  that 
she  shrank  from  his  familiarity;  and  then  only  had  he 
learned  to  doubt  of  the  fulfilment  of  his  uncle's  wish. 
The  last  visit  had  increased  this  doubt  to  a  painful 
apprehension :  he  saw  that  he  was  not  loved ;  he  saw 
that  it  required  great  address,  and  the  absence  of  hap- 
pier rivals,  to  secure  to  him  the  hand  of  Evelyn;  and 
he  cursed  the  duties  and  the  schemes  which  necessarily 
kept  him  from  her  side.  He  had  thought  of  persuading 
Lady  Vargrave  to  let  her  come  to  London,  where  he 
could  be  ever  at  hand;  and  as  the  season  was  now  set 
in,  his  representations  on  this  head  would  appear  sensi- 
ble and  just.  But  then  again,  this  was  to  incur  greater 
dangers  than  those  he  would  avoid.  London!  A 
beauty  and  an  heiress,  in  her  first  debut  in  London! 
What  formidable  admirers  would  flock  around  her! 
Vargrave  shuddered  to  think  of  the  gay,  handsome, 
well-dressed,  seductive  young  elegans,  who  might  seem, 
to  a  girl  of  seventeen,  suitors  far  more  fascinating  than 


134  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

the  middle-aged  politician.  This  was  perilous;  nor  was 
this  all.  Lord  Vargrave  knew  that  in  London  —  gaudy, 
babhling,  and  remorseless  London  —  all  that  he  could 
most  wish  to  conceal  from  tlie  young  lady  would  be 
dragged  to  day.  He  had  been  the  lover,  not  of  one, 
but  of  a  dozen  women,  for  whom  he  did  not  care  three 
straws,  but  whose  favor  had  served  to  strengthen  him  in 
society,  or  whose  influence  made  up  for  his  own  want  of 
hereditary  political  connections.  The  manner  in  which 
he  contrived  to  shake  off  these  various  Ariadnes,  when- 
ever it  was  advisable,  was  not  the  least  striking  proof  of 
his  diplomatic  abilities.  He  never  left  them  enemies. 
According  to  his  own  solution  of  the  mystery,  he  took 
care  never  to  play  the  gallant  with  Dulcineas  under  a 
certain  age.  "  Middle-aged  women,"  he  Avas  wont  to  say, 
"are  very  little  different  from  middle-aged  men;  they 
see  things  sensibly,  and  take  things  coolly."  Now 
Evelyn  could  not  be  three  weeks,  perhaps  three  days,  in 
London,  without  learning  of  one  or  other  of  these  liai- 
sons. "What  an  excuse,  if  she  sought  one,  to  break 
with  him!  Altogether,  Lord  Vargrave  was  sorely  per- 
plexed, but  not  despondent.  Evelyn's  fortune  Avas  more 
than  ever  necessary  to  him,  and  Evelyn  he  was  resolved 
to  oTitain,  since  to  that  fortune  she  was  an  indispensable 
appendage. 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  135 


CHAPTER  II. 

You  shall  be  Horace,  and  TibuUus  I.  —  Pope, 

Lord  Vargrave  was  disturbed  from  his  reverie  by  the 
entrance  of  the  Earl  of  Saxingham. 

"  You  are  welcome  !  "  said  Lumley,  "  welcome  !  —  the 
very  man  I  wished  to  see." 

Lord  Saxingham,  who  was  scarcely  altered  since  we 
met  with  him  in  the  last  series  of  this  work,  except  that 
he  had  grown  somewhat  paler  and  thinner,  and  that  his 
hair  had  changed  from  iron-gray  to  snow-white,  threw 
himself  in  the  armchair  beside  Lumley,  and  replied, — 

"  Vargrave,  it  is  really  unpleasant,  our  finding  our- 
selves always  thus  controlled  by  our  own  partisans.  I 
do  not  understand  this  new-fangled  policy,  —  this  squar- 
ing of  measures  to  please  the  Opposition,  and  throw  sops 
to  that  many-headed  monster  called  Public  Opinion.  I 
am  sure  it  will  end  most  mischievously." 

"  I  am  satisfied  of  it,"  returned  Lord  Vargrave.  "  All 
vigor  and  union  seem  to  have  left  us ;  and  if  they  carry 

the question  against  us,  I  know  not  what  is  to  be 

done." 

"For  my  part,  I  shall  resign,"  said  Lord  Saxingham, 
doggedly;  "it  is  the  only  alternative  left  to  men  of 
honor. " 

"  You  are  wrong,  —  I  know  another  alternative. " 

"  What  is  that  1  " 

"  Make  a  Cabinet  of  our  own.  Look  ye,  my  dear  lord, 
you  have  been  ill-used,  — your  high  character,  your  long 


136  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

experience,  are  treated  with  contempt.  It  is  an  affront 
to  you,  the  situation  you  hold.  You,  Privy  Seal !  you 
ought  to  be  premier,  —  ay,  and  if  you  are  ruled  by  me, 
premier  you  shall  be  yet." 

Lord  Saxingham  colored,  and  breathed  hard. 

"You  have  often  hinted  at  this  before,  Lumley;  but 
you  are  so  partial,  so  friendly." 

"  Not  at  all.  You  saw  the  leading  article  in  the 
to-day  ?  —  that  will  be  followed  up  by  two  even- 
ing papers  within  five  hours  of  this  time.  We  have 
strength  with  the  press,  with  the  Commons,  with  the 
Court;  only  let  us  hold  fast  together.  This ques- 
tion, by  which  they  hope  to  get  rid  of  us,  shall  de- 
stroy them.  You  shall  be  prime-minister  before  the 
year  is  over,  by  Heaven,  you  shall !  —  and  then,  I 
suppose,  /  too  may  be  admitted  to  the  Cabinet !  " 

"But  how  —  how,  Lumley?  Y"ou  are  too  rash,  too 
daring. " 

"  It  has  not  been  my  fault  hitherto;  but  boldness  is 
caution  in  our  circumstances.  If  they  throw  us  out  now, 
I  see  the  inevitable  march  of  events,  —  we  shall  be  out 
for  years,  perhaps  for  life.  The  Cabinet  will  recede 
more  and  more  from  our  principles,  our  party.  Now  is 
the  time  for  a  determined  stand,  —  now  can  we  make  or 
mar  ourselves.  I  will  not  resign:  the  king  is  with  us; 
our  strength  sliall  be  known.  These  haughty  imbeciles 
fcihall  fall  into  the  trap  they  have  dug  for  us." 

Lumley  spoke  warmly,  and  with  the  confidence  of  a 
mind  firmly  assured  of  success.  Lord  Saxingham  was 
moved;  briglit  visions  flashed  across  him,  —  the  pre- 
miership, a  dukedom.  Yet  he  was  old  and  childless,  and 
his  honors  would  die  with  the  last  lord  of  Saxingham. 

"See,"  continued  Lumley,  "I  have  calculated  our 
resources  as  accurately  as  an  electioneering  agent  would 


ALICE-,   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES.  137 

cast  up  the  list  of  voters.     In  the  press,  I  have  secured 

and ;  and  in  the  Commons  we  have  the  subtle 

,  and   the   vigor   of  ,  and    the   popular   name 

of ,  and  all  the  boroughs  of ;  in  the  Cabinet  we 

have ;  and  at  Court  you  know  our  strength.     Let 

us  choose  our  moment:  a  sudden  coup,  an  interview 
with  the  king,  a  statement  of  our  conscientious  scruples 
to  this  atrocious  measure.  I  know  the  vain,  stiff  mind 
of  the  premier;  he  will  lose  temper;  he  will  tender  his 
resignation;  to  his  astonishment,  it  will  be  accepted. 
You  will  be  sent  for;  we  will  dissolve  Parliament;  we 
will  strain  every  nerve  in  the  elections ;  we  shall  suc- 
<;eed, —  I  know  we  shall.  But  be  silent  in  the  mean 
while, — be  cautious:  let  not  a  word  escape  you;  let 
them  think  us  beaten ;  lull  suspicion  asleep,  —  let  us 
lament  our  weakness,  and  hint,  only  hint  at  our  resigna- 
tion ,  but  with  assvirances  of  continued  support.  I  know 
how  to  blind  them,  if  you  leave  it  to  me." 

The  weak  mind  of  the  old  earl  was  as  a  puppet  in  the 
hands  of  his  bold  kinsman.  He  feared  one  moment, 
hoped  another;  now  his  ambition  was  flattered, — now 
his  sense  of  honor  was  alarmed.  There  was  something 
in  Lumley's  intrigue  to  oust  the  government  with  which 
he  served,  that  had  an  appearance  of  cunning  and  base- 
ness, of  which  Lord  Saxingham,  whose  personal  char- 
acter was  high,  by  no  means  approved.  But  Vargrave 
talked  him  over  with  consummate  address;  and  when 
they  parted,  the  earl  carried  his  head  two  inches  higher, 
—  he  was  preparing  himself  for  his  rise  in  life. 

"  That  is  well,  —  that  is  well !  "  said  Lumley,  rub- 
bing his  hands  when  he  was  left  alone;  "the  old  driv- 
eller will  be  my  locum  tenens  till  years  and  renown 
enable  me  to  become  his  successor.  Meanwhile,  I  shall 
be  really  what  he  will  be  in  name." 


138  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

Here  Lord  Vargrave's  well-fed  servant,  now  advanced 
to  the  dignity  of  own  gentleman  and  house-steward, 
entered  the  room  with  a  letter;  it  had  a  portentous 
look:  it  was  wafered,  the  paper  was  blue,  the  hand 
clerk-like,  there  Avas  no  envelope,  it  bore  its  infernal 
origin  on  the  face  of  it,  —  it  was  a  dux's. 

Lumley  opened  the  epistle  with  an  impatient  pshaw ! 
The  man,  a  silversmith  (Lumley 's  plate  was  much  ad- 
mired!), had  applied  for  years  in  vain;  the  amount  was 
large;   an   execution   was   threatened.      An   execution! 

—  it  is  a  trifle  to  a  rich  man,  but  no  trifle  to  one  sus- 
pected of  being  poor,  —  one  straining  at  that  very  mo- 
ment at  so  high  an  object;  one  to  whom  public  opinion 
was  so  necessary ;  one  who  knew  that  nothing  but  his 
title,  and  scarcely  that,  saved  him  from  the  reputation  of 
an  adventurer.  He  must  again  have  recourse  to  tlie 
money-lenders,  —  his  small  estate  was  long  since  too 
deeply  mortgaged  to  afford  new  security.  Usury,  usury, 
again! — he  knew  its  price,  and  he  sighed;  but  what 
was  to  be  done? 

"  It  is  but  for  a  few  months,  a  few  months,  and 
Evelyn  must  be  mine.  Saxingham  has  already  lent  me 
what  he  cin ;  but  he  is  embarrassed.     This  d d  office, 

—  what  a  tax  it  is !  and  the  rascals  say  we  are  too  well 
paid!  I,  too,  who  could  live  happy  in  a  garret  if  this 
purse-proud  England  would  but  allow  one  to  exist  within 
one's  income.  My  fellow-trustee,  the  banker,  my  un- 
cle's old  correspondent,  —  ah,  well  thought  of!  He 
knows  the  conditions  of  the  will,  —  he  knows  that,  at 
the  worst,  I  must  have  thirty  thousand  pounds  if  I  live 
a  few  months  longer.     I  will  go  to  him. " 


ALICE:  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  139 


CHAPTER   III. 

Animum  nunc  hoc  celerem,  nunc  dividit  illuc.^  —  Virgil. 

The  late  Mr.  Templeton  had  been  a  banker  in  a  provin- 
cial town,  Avhich  was  the  centre  of  great  commercial  and 
agricultural  activity  and  enterprise.  He  had  made  the 
bulk  of  his  fortune  in  the  happy  days  of  paper  currency 
and  war.  Besides  his  country  bank  he  had  a  consider- 
able share  in  a  metropolitan  one  of  some  eminence.  At 
the  time  of  his  marriage  with  the  present  Lady  Vargrave 
he  retired  altogether  from  business,  and  never  returned 
to  the  place  in  which  his  wealth  had  been  amassed.  He 
had  still  kept  up  a  familiar  acquaintance  with  the  prin- 
cipal and  senior  partner  of  the  metropolitan  bank  I  have 
referred  to;  for  he  was  a  man  who  always  loved  to  talk 
about  money  matters  with  those  who  understood  them. 
This  gentleman,  Mr.  Gustavus  Douce,  had  been  named, 
with  Lumley,  joint  trustee  to  Evelyn's  fortune.  They 
had  full  powers  to  invest  it  in  whatever  stock  seemed 
most  safe  or  advantageous.  The  trustees  appeared  well 
chosen, — as  one,  being  destined  to  share  the  fortune, 
would  have  the  deepest  interest  in  its  security;  and  the 
other,  from  his  habits  and  profession,  would  be  a  most 
excellent  adviser. 

Of  Mr.  Douce,  Lord  Vargrave  had  seen  but  little; 
they  were  not  thrown  together.  But  Lord  Vargrave, 
who  thought  every  rich  man  might,  some  day  or  other, 
become  a  desirable  acquaintance,  regularly  asked  him 
once  every  year  to  dinner;  and  twice  in  return  he  bad 
1  Now  this,  now  that,  distracts  the  active  mind. 


140  ALICE;   OK,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

dined  with  Mr.  Douce,  in  one  of  the  most  splendid 
villas,  and  off  some  of  the  most  splendid  plate  it  had 
ever  been  his  fortune  to  witness  and  to  envy ;  so  that 
the  little  favor  he  was  about  to  ask  was  but  a  slight 
return  for  Lord  Vargrave's  condescension. 

He  found  the  banker  in  his  private  sanctum,  his  car- 
riage at  the  door;  for  it  was  just  four  o'clock,  an  hour 
in  which  Mr.  Douce  regularly  departed  to  Caserta,  as 
his  aforesaid  villa  was  somewhat  aifectedly  styled. 

^Ir.  Douce  was  a  small  man,  a  nervous  man,  — he  did 
not  seem  quite  master  of  his  own  limbs.  When  he  bowed 
he  seemed  to  be  making  you  a  present  of  his  legs;  when 
he  sat  down,  he  twitched  first  on  one  side,  then  on  the 
other,  thrust  his  hands  into  his  pockets,  then  took 
them  out,  and  looked  at  them,  as  if  in  astonishment, 
then  seized  upon  a  pen,  by  which  they  were  luckily 
provided  with  incessant  occupation.  Meanwhile,  there 
was  what  might  fairly  be  called  a  constant  play  of  coun- 
tenance :  first  he  smiled,  then  looked  grave,  —  now  raised 
his  eyebrows  till  they  rose  like  rainbows  to  the  horizon 
of  his  pale,  straw-colored  hair,  and  next  darted  them 
down,  like  an  avalanche,  over  the  twinkling,  restless, 
fluttering,  little  blue  eyes,  which  then  became  almost 
invisiljle.  Mr.  Douce  had,  in  fact,  all  the  appearance 
of  a  painfully  shy  man,  which  was  the  more  strange,  as 
he  had  the  reputation  of  enterprise,  and  even  audacity, 
in  the  business  of  his  profession,  and  was  fond  of  the 
Bociety  of  the  great. 

"  I  have  called  on  you,  my  dear  sir,"  said  Lord  Var- 
grave,  after  the  preliminary  salutations,  "  to  ask  a  little 
favor,  which,  if  the  least  inconvenient,  have  no  hesita- 
tion in  refusing.  You  know  how  I  am  situated  with 
regard  to  my  ward.  Miss  Cameron;  in  a  few  months  I 
hope  she  will  be  Lady  Yargrave. " 


ALICE;    OR,    THE   MYSTERIES.  141 

Mr.  Douce  showed  three  small  teeth,  which  were  all 
that,  in  the  front  of  his  mouth,  fate  had  left  him,  and 
then,  as  if  alarmed  at  the  indelicacy  of  a  smile  upon 
such  a  subject,  pushed  hack  his  chair  and  twitched  up 
his  blotting-paper-colored  trousers. 

"Yes,  in  a  few  months  I  hope  she  will  be  Lady  Var- 
grave;  and  you  know  then,  Mr.  Douce,  that  I  shall  be 
in  no  want  of  money." 

"  I  hope  —  that  is  to  say,  I  am  sure  —  that  —  I  trust 
that  never  will  be  the  ca-ca-case  with  your  lordship," 
put  in  Mr.  Douce,  with  timid  hesitation.  Mr.  Douce, 
in  addition  to  his  other  good  qualities,  stammered  much 
in  the  delivery  of  his  sentences. 

"  You  are  very  kind,  but  it  is  the  case  just  at  pres- 
ent ;  I  have  great  need  of  a  few  thousand  pounds  upon 
my  personal  security.  My  estate  is  already  a  little 
mortgaged,  and  I  don't  wish  to  encumber  it  more; 
l)esides,  the  loan  Avould  be  merely  temporary :  you 
Know  that  if  at  the  age  of  eighteen  Miss  Cameron  re- 
fuses me  (a  supposition  out  of  the  question,  but  in 
business  we  must  calculate  on  improbabilities),  I  claim 
the  forfeit  she  incurs:  thirty  thousand  pounds,  you 
remember. " 

"  Oh,  yes ;  that  —  is  —  upon  my  word  —  I  —  I  don't 
exactly  —  but  —  your  lord  —  l-l-l-lord-lordship  knows 
best  —  I  have  been  so  —  so  busy  —  1  forget  the  exact  — 
hem  —  hem !  " 

"  If  you  just  turn  to  the  will  you  will  see  it  is  as  I  say. 
Now,  could  you  conveniently  place  a  few  thousands  to 
my  account,  just  for  a  short  timel  But  I  see  you  don't 
like  it.  Never  mind,  I  can  get  it  elsewhere;  only,  as 
you  were  my  poor  uncle's  friend  —  " 

"  Your  lord  —  1-1-1-lordship  is  quite  mistaken,"  said 
Mr.  Douce,  with  trembling  agitation;  "upon  my  word, 


142  ALICE;   OH,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

yes,  a  few  thou-thou-thousands  —  to  be  sure  —  to  be  sure. 
Your  lordship's  banker  is  —  is — " 

"  Drummond,  —  disagreeable  people,  by  no  means 
obliging.  I  shall  certainly  change  to  your  house  when 
my  accounts  are  better  worth  keeping." 

■' You  do  me  great  —  great  honor;  I  will  just  —  step 
—  step  —  step  out  for  a  moment  —  and  —  and  speak  to 
Mr.  Dobs;  not  but  what  you  may  depend  on — ■  Excuse 
me!     ^Morning  Chron-Chron-Chronicle,  my  lord!" 

Mr.  Douce  rose,  as  if  by  galvanism,  and  ran  o\it  of 
the  room,  spinning  round  as  he  ran  to  declare,  again  and 
again,  that  he  would  not  be  gone  a  moment. 

"Good  little  fellow  that, — very  like  an  electrified 
frog!  "  murmured  Vargrave,  as  he  took  up  the  Morning 
Chronicle  so  especially  pointed  out  to  his  notice,  and 
turning  to  the  leading  article,  read  a  very  eloquent  attack 
on  himself.  Lumley  was  thick-skinned  on  such  mat- 
ters: he  liked  to  be  attacked,  —  it  showed  that  he  was 
up  in  the  world. 

Presently  Mr.  Douce  returned.  To  Lord  Vargrave 's 
amazement  and  delight  he  was  informed  that  ten  thou- 
sand pounds  would  be  immediately  lodged  with  Messrs. 
Drummond.  His  bill  of  promise  to  pay  in  three  months, 
five  per  cent  interest  was  quite  sufficient:  three  months 
was  a  short  date;  but  the  bill  could  be  renewed  on 
the  same  terms  from  quarter  to  quarter,  till  quite  con- 
venient to  his  lordship  to  pay.  "  Would  Lord  Vargrave 
do  him  the  honor  to  dine  with  him  at  Caserta  next 
Monday  ? " 

Lord  Vargrave  tried  to  affect  apathy  at  his  sudden 
accPHsion  of  ready  money;  but  really  it  almost  turned 
his  head:  he  griped  both  Mr.  Douce's  thin,  little 
shivering  hands,  and  was  speechless  with  gratitude 
and  ecstasy.     The  sum,  which  doubled  the  utmost  he 


ALICE;   OK,   THE    MYSTERIES.  143 

expected,  M'ould  relieve  him  from  all  his  immediate 
embarrassments.  When  he  recovered  his  voice,  he 
thanked  his  dear  Mr.  Douce  with  a  vp-armth  that 
seemed  to  make  the  little  man  shrink  into  a  nutshell, 
and  assured  him  that  he  would  dine  witli  him  every 
Monday  in  the  year,  —  if  he  was  asked!  He  then 
longed  to  depart;  but  he  thought,  justly,  that  to  go  as 
soon  as  he  had  got  what  lie  wanted  would  look  selfish. 
Accordingly,  he  reseated  himself,  and  so  did  Mr.  Douce, 
and  the  conversation  turned  upon  politics  and  news;  but 
Mr.  Douce,  who  seemed  to  regard  all  things  with  a  com- 
mercial eye,  contrived,  Vargrave  hardly  knew  how,  to 
veer  round  from  the  change  in  the  French  ministry  to 
the  state  of  the  English  money-market. 

"  It  really  is,  indeed,  my  lord,  —  I  say  it,  I  am  sure, 
with  concern, — a  very  bad  ti-ti-ti-ti-time  for  men  in 
business  —  indeed  for  all  men  —  such  poor  interest  in 
the  English  fu-fun-funds  —  and  yet  speculations  are  so 
unsound.  I  recommended  my  friend  Sir  Giles  Grimsby 
to  —  to  invest  some  money  in  the  American  canals :  a 
most  rare  res-res-respons-responsibility,  I  may  say,  for 
me ;  I  am  cautious  in  —  in  recommending  —  but  Sir 
Giles  was  an  old  friend  —  con-con-connection,  I  may 
say;  but  most  providentially,  all  turned  out  —  that  is 
—  fell  out  —  as  I  was  sure  it  would  —  thirty  per  cent  — 
and  the  value  of  the  sh-sh-sh-shares  doubled.  But  such 
things  are  very  rare  —  quite  godsends,  I  may  say !  " 

"  Well,  Mr.  Douce,  whenever  I  have  money  to  lay 
out,  I  must  come  and  consult  you." 

"  I  shall  be  most  happy  at  all  times  to  —  to  advise 
your  lordship;  but  it  is  not  a  thing  I  'm  ver}'-  fond  of. 
There  's  Miss  Cameron's  fortune  quite  1-1-locked  up  — • 
three  per  cents  and  Exchequer  bills;  why,  it  might  have 
been  a  mil-mil-million  by  this  ti-ti-time,  if   the  good 


144  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

old  gentleman  —  I  beg  pardon  —  old  —  old  nobleman, 
my  poor  dear  friend,  had  been  now  alive!  " 

"Indeed!"  said  Lumley,  greedily,  and  pricking  up 
his  ears;  "he  was  a  good  manager,  my  uncle!" 

"  2^1  one  better,  none  better.  I  may  say  a  genius  for 
busi  —  hem  —  hem!  Miss  Cameron,  a  young  woman  of 
bus-bus-business,  my  lord  ?  " 

"  Not  much  of  that,  I  fear.     A  million,  did  you  say  1  " 

"At  least!  —  indeed,  at  least  —  money  so  scarce  — 
speculation  so  sure  in  America  —  great  people  the  Amer- 
icans—  rising  people  —  gi-gi-giants  —  giants!  " 

"I  am  wasting  your  whole  morning, — too  bad  in 
me,"  said  Vargrave,  as  the  clock  struck  five;  "the 
Lords  meet  this  evening:  important  business, — once 
more  a  thousand  thanks  to  you;  good-day." 

"  A  very  good-day  to  you,  my  lord,  don't  mention  it; 
glad  at  any  time  to  ser-ser-serve  you,"  said  Mr.  Douce, 
fidgeting,  curveting,  and  prancing  round  Lord  Vargrave, 
M  the  latter  walked  through  the  outer  office  to  the 
tarriage. 

"  Not  a  step  more;  you  will  catch  cold.  Good-by:  on 
Monday,  then,  seven  o'clock.     The  House  of  Lords." 

And  Lumley  threw  himself  back  in  his  carriage  in 
high  spirits. 


ALICE;  OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  145 


CHAPTER   IV. 

Oublie  de  TuUie,  et  brave  du  S^nat.* 

Voltaire  :  Brutus,  Act  ii.  Sc.  I. 

In  the  Lords  that  evening  the  discussion  was  animated 
and  prolonged,  —  it  was  the  last  party  debate  of  the  ses- 
sion. The  astute  Opposition  did  not  neglect  to  bring 
prominently,  though  incidentally,  forward,  the  question 
on  which  it  was  whispered  that  there  existed  some 
growing  difference  in  the  Cabinet.  Lord  Vargrave  rose 
late;  his  temper  was  excited  by  the  good  fortune  of  his 
day's  negotiation;  he  felt  himself  of  more  importance 
than  usual ,  as  a  needy  man  is  apt  to  do  when  he  has  got 
a  large  sum  at  his  banker's;  moreover,  he  was  exasper- 
ated by  some  personal  allusions  to  himself,  which  had 
been  delivered  by  a  dignified  old  lord  who  dated  his 
family  from  the  Ark,  and  was  as  rich  as  CrcBsus.  Ac- 
cordingly Vargrave  spoke  with  more  than  his  usual 
vigor.  His  first  sentences  were  welcomed  with  loud 
cheers;  he  warmed;  he  grew  vehement;  he  uttered  tlie 
most  positive  and  unalterable  sentiments  upon  the  ques- 
tion alluded  to;  he  greatly  transgressed  the  discretion 
Avhich  the  heads  of  his  party  were  desirous  to  maintain: 
instead  of  conciliating  without  compromising,  he  irri- 
tated, galled,  and  compromised.  The  angry  cheers  of 
the  opposite  party  were  loudly  re-echoed  by  the  cheers 
of  the  more  hot-headed  on  his  own  side.  The  premier 
and  some  of  his  colleagues  observed,  however,  a  moody 
1  Forgotten  by  Tully,  and  bullied  by  the  Senate. 


146  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

silence.  The  premier  once  took  a  note,  and  then  re- 
seated himself,  and  drew  his  hat  more  closely  over  his 
brows.  It  was  an  ominous  sign  for  Lumley;  but  he 
was  looking  the  Opposition  in  the  face,  and  did  not  ob- 
serve it.  He  sat  down  in  triumph,  he  had  made  a  most 
effective  and  a  most  mischievous  speech,  — a  combination 
extremely  common.  The  leader  of  the  Opposition  re- 
plied to  him  with  bitter  calmness;  and  when  citing 
some  of  his  sharp  sentences,  he  turned  to  the  premier, 
and  asked,  "  Are  these  opinions  those  also  of  the  noble 
lord  ?  I  call  for  a  reply,  —  I  have  a  right  to  demand  a 
reply."  Lumley  was  startled  to  hear  the  tone  in  which 
his  chief  uttered  the  comprehensive  and  significant 
"  Hear,  hear  !  " 

At  midnight  the  premier  wound  up  the  debate;  his 
speech  was  short,  and  characterized  by  moderation. 
He  came  to  the  question  put  to  him;  the  House  was 
hushed,  —  you  might  have  heard  a  pin  drop;  the 
Commoners  behind  the  throne  pressed  forward  with 
anxiety  and  eagerness  on  their  countenances. 

"  I  am  called  upon,"  said  the  minister,  "  to  declare  if 
those  sentiments  uttered  by  my  noble  friend  are  mine 
also,  as  the  chief  adviser  of  the  Crown.  My  lords,  in 
the  heat  of  debate  every  word  is  not  to  be  scrupulously 
■weighed,  and  rigidly  interpreted."  ("  Hear,  hear," 
ironically  from  the  Opposition,  approvingly  from  the 
Treasury  benclies.)  "  My  noble  friend  will  doubtless 
Ije  anxious  to  explain  what  he  intended  to  say.  I  hope 
—  nay,  I  doubt  not  —  that  his  explanation  will  be  satis- 
factory to  the  noble  lord,  to  the  House,  and  to  the  coun- 
try. But  since  I  am  called  upon  for  a  distinct  reply  to 
a  distinct  interrogatory,  I  will  say  at  once  that  if  those 
sentiments  be  rightly  interpreted  by  the  noble  lord  who 
spoke  last,   those   sentiments   are   not   mine,   and  will 


ALICE;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  147 

never  animate  the  conduct  of  any  Cabinet  of  which  I 
am  a  member."  (Long-continued  cheering  from  the 
Opposition.)  "At  the  same  time,  I  am  convinced  that 
my  noble  friend's  meaning  has  not  been  rightly  con- 
strued; and  till  I  hear  from  himself  to  the  contrary,  I 
will  venture  to  state  what  T  think  he  designed  to  convey 
to  your  lordships."  Here  the  premier,  with  a  tact  that 
nobody  could  be  duped  by,  but  every  one  could  admire, 
stripped  Lord  Vargrave's  unlucky  sentences  of  every 
syllable  that  could  give  offence  to  any  one,  and  left  the 
pointed  epigrams  and  vehement  denunciations  a  most 
harmless  arrangement  of  commonplace. 

The  House  was  much  excited;  there  was  a  call  for 
Lord  Vargrave,  and  Lord  Vargrave  promptly  rose.  It 
was  one  of  those  dilemmas  out  of  which  Lumley  was 
just  the  man  to  extricate  himself  with  address.  There 
was  so  much  manly  frankness  in  his  manner;  there 
was  so  much  crafty  subtlety  in  his  mind!  He  com- 
plained, with  proud  and  honest  bitterness,  of  the  con- 
struction that  had  been  forced  upon  his  words  by  the 
Opposition.  "If,"  he  added  (and  no  man  knew  better 
the  rhetorical  effect  of  the  tu  quoque  form  of  argument), 
—  "  if  every  sentence  uttered  by  the  noble  lord  opposite 
in  his  zeal  for  liberty  had,  in  days  now  gone  by,  been 
construed  with  equal  rigor,  or  perverted  with  equal 
ingenuity,  that  noble  lord  had  long  since  been  prose- 
cuted as  an  incendiary,  perhaps  executed  as  a  traitor!  " 
Vehement  cheers  from  the  ministerial  benches,  cries  of 
"  Order!  "  from  the  Opposition.  A  military  lord  rose 
to  order,  and  appealed  to  the  Woolsack. 

Lumley  sat  down,  as  if  chafed  at  the  interruption:  he 
had  produced  the  effect  he  had  desired,  —  he  had  changed 
the  public  question  at  issue  into  a  private  quarrel.  A 
new  excitement  was  created,  —  dust  was  thrown   into 


148  ALICE;   OK,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

the  eyes  of  the  House.  Several  speakers  rose  to  accoiu- 
niodate  matters;  and  after  half  an  hour  of  public  time 
had  been  properly  wasted,  the  noble  lord  on  the  one 
side,  and  the  noble  lord  on  the  other,  duly  explained, 
paid  each  other  the  highest  possible  compliments,  and 
Lumley  was  left  to  conclude  his  vindication,  which 
now  .-^eemed  a  comparatively  flat  matter  after  the  late  ex- 
plosion. He  completed  his  task  so  as  to  satisfy,  appar- 
ently, all  parties,  — for  all  parties  were  now  tired  of  the 
thing,  and  wanted  to  go  to  bed.  But  the  next  morning 
there  were  whispers  about  the  town,  articles  in  the 
different  papers,  evidently  by  authority,  rejoicing  among 
ihe  Opposition ;  and  a  general  feeling,  that,  though 
the  government  might  keep  together  that  session,  its 
dissensions  would  break  out  before  the  next  meeting  of 
Parliament. 

As  Lumley  was  wrapping  himself  in  his  cloak  after 
this  stormy  debate,  the  Marquess  of  Raby  —  a  peer  of 
large  possessions,  and  one  who  entirely  agreed  with 
Lumley 's  views  —  came  up  to  him,  and  proposed  that 
they  should  go  home  together  in  Lord  Raby's  carriage. 
Vargrave  willingly  consented,  and  dismissed  his  own 
servants. 

"  You  did  that  admirably,  my  dear  Vargrave!  "  said 
Lord  Raby,  when  they  were  seated  in  the  carriage.  "  I 
quite    coincide    in    all    your  sentiments;  I  declare  my 

blood   boiled  when  I   heard  [the   premier]  appear 

half  inclined  to  throw  you  over.     Your  hit  upon 

wa.s  first-rate,  —  he  will  not  get  over  it  for  a  month,  — 
and  you  extricated  yourself  well." 

"  I  am  glad  you  approve  my  conduct,  —  it  comforts 
me,"  said  Vargrave,  feelingly.  "  At  the  same  time  I  see 
all  the  consequences;  but  I  can  brave  all  for  the  sake  of 
character  and  conscience." 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  149 

"I  feel  just  as  you  do!  "  replied    Lord  Raby,  with 

some    warmth ;  "  and  if  I  thought  that  meant  to 

yield  this  question,  I  should  certainly  oppose  his 
administration. " 

Vargrave  shook  his  head,  and  held  his  tongue,  which 
gave  Lord  Eaby  a  high  idea  of  his  discretion. 

After  a  few  more  observations  on  political  matters, 
Lord  Raby  invited  Lumley  to  pay  him  a  visit  at  his 
country-seat. 

"  I  am  going  to  Knaresdean  next  Monday ;  you  know 
we  have  races  in  the  park,  —  and  really  they  are  some- 
times good  sport:  at  all  events,  it  is  a  very  pretty  sight. 
There  will  be  nothing  in  the  Lords  now,  —  the  recess  is 
just  at  hand;  and  if  you  can  spare  the  time,  Lady  Raby 
and  myself  will  be  delighted  to  see  you." 

"  You  may  be  sure ,  my  dear  lord ,  I  cannot  refuse 
your  invitation;  indeed,  I  intended  to  visit  your  county 
next  week.     You  know,  perhaps,  a  Mr.  Merton"?  " 

"  Charles  Merton  1  To  be  sure :  most  respectable  man, 
capital  fellow,  the  best  parson  in  the  county,  —  no  cant, 
but  thoroughly  orthodox.  He  certainly  keeps  in  his 
brother,  who,  though  a  very  active  member,  is  what  I 
call  a  waverer  on  certain  questions.  Have  you  known 
Merton  long  ?  " 

"I  don't  know  him  at  all  as  yet:  my  acquaintance 
is  with  his  wife  and  daughter, — a  very  fine  girl,  by 
the  bye.  My  ward.  Miss  Cameron,  is  staying  with 
them. " 

"  Miss  Cameron !  —  Cameron  —  ah !  —  I  understand ;  I 
think  I  have  heard  that  —  but  gossip  does  not  always  tell 
the  truth!  " 

Lumley  smiled  significantly,  and  the  carriage  no-w 
stopped  at  his  door. 


150  ALICE;   OR,  THE  MYSTERIES. 

"  Perhaps  you  will  take  a  seat  in  our  carriage  on 
Monday  ?  "  said  Lord  Kaby. 

"  Monday  ?  Unhappily  I  am  engaged ;  but  on  Tuesday 
your  lordship  may  expect  me." 

"Very  well;  the  races  begin  on  Wednesday.  We 
shall  have  a  full  house;  good-night!  " 


AUCE:   OE,   THE  MYSTERIES.  151 


CHAPTER   V. 

Homunculi  quanti  sunt,  cum  recogito.'  —  Platjtus. 

It  is  obvious  that  for  many  reasons  we  must  be  brief 
upon  the  political  intrigue  in  which  the  scheming  spirit 
of  Lord  Vargrave  was  employed.  It  would,  indeed, 
be  scarcely  possible  to  preserve  the  necessary  medium 
between  too  plain  a  revelation  and  too  complex  a  dis- 
guise. It  suffices,  therefore,  very  shortly  to  repeat  what 
the  reader  has  already  gathered  from  what  has  gone 
before;  namely,  that  the  question  at  issue  was  one 
which  has  happened  often  enough  in  all  governments, 
—  one  on  which  the  Cabinet  was  divided,  and  in  which 
the  weaker  party  was  endeavoring  to  out-trick  the 
stronger. 

The  malcontents,  foreseeing  that  sooner  or  later  the 
head  of  the  gathering  must  break,  were  again  divided 
among  themselves  whether  to  resign  or  to  stay  in,  and 
strive  to  force  a  resignation  on  their  dissentient  col- 
leagues. The  richer  and  the  more  honest  were  for  the 
former  course ;  the  poorer  and  the  more  dependent  for  the 
latter.  We  have  seen  that  the  latter  policy  was  that 
espoused  and  recommended  by  Vargrave  (who,  though 
not  in  the  Cabinet,  always  contrived  somehow  or  other 
to  worm  out  its  secrets) ,  —  at  the  same  time,  he  by  no 
means  rejected  the  other  string  to  his  bow.  If  it  were 
possible    so    to    arrange    and    to    strengthen   his  faction 

^  When  I  reflect,  how  great  your  little  men  are  in  their  own 
consideration. 


152  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

that,  by  the  coup  dUtat  of  a  sudden  resignation  in  a 
formidable  body,  the  whole  government  might  be  broken 
up,  and  a  new  one  formed  from  among  the  resignees, 
it  would  obviously  be  the  best  plan.  But  then,  Lord 
Vargrave  was  doubtful  of  his  own  strength,  and  fearful 
to  play  into  the  hands  of  his  colleagues,  who  might  be 
able  to  stand  even  better  without  himself  and  his  allies, 
and,  by  conciliating  the  Opposition,  take  a  step  onward 
in  political  movement  which  might  leave  Vargrave 
placeless  and  powerless  for  years  to  come. 

He  repented  his  own  rashness  in  the  recent  debate, 
which  was,  indeed,  a  premature  boldness  that  had 
sprung  out  of  momentary  excitement,  —  for  the  craftiest 
orator  must  be  indiscreet  sometimes.  He  spent  the  next 
few  days  in  alternately  seeking  to  explain  away  to  one 
party,  and  to  sound,  unite,  and  consolidate  the  other. 
His  attempts  in  the  one  quarter  were  received  by  the 
premier  with  the  cold  politeness  of  an  offended  but 
areful  statesman,  who  believed  just  as  much  as  he 
chose,  and  preferred  taking  his  own  opportunity  for  a 
breach  with  a  subordinate  to  risking  any  imprudence  by 
the  gratification  of  resentment.  In  the  last  quarter,  the 
penetrating  adventurer  saw  that  his  ground  was  more 
insecure  than  he  had  anticipated.  He  perceived,  in 
dismay  and  secret  rage,  that  many  of  those  most  loud  in 
his  favor  while  he  was  with  the  government,  would 
desert  him  the  soonest  if  thrown  out.  Liked  as  a  sub- 
ordinate minister,  he  was  viewed  with  very  different 
eyes  the  moment  it  was  a  question  whether,  instead  of 
cheering  his  sentiments,  men  should  trust  themselves  to 
his  guidance.  Some  did  not  wish  to  displease  the 
government;  others  did  not  seek  to  weaken,  but  to  cor- 
rect them.  One  of  his  stanchest  allies  in  the  Commons 
waa  a  candidate  for  a  peerage ;  another  suddenly  remem- 


ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES,  153 

bered  that  he  was  second  cousin  to  the  premier.  Some 
laughed  at  the  idea  of  a  puppet  premier  in  Lord  Saxing- 
ham;  others  insinuated  to  Vargrave  that  he  himself 
was  not  precisely  of  that  standing  in  the  country  which 
would  command  respect  to  a  new  party,  of  which,  if  not 
the  head,  he  would  be  the  mouthpiece:   for  themselves 

they  knew,  admired,  and  trusted  him  ;  but  those  d d 

country  gentlemen,  and  the  dull  public! 

Alarmed,  wearied,  and  disgusted,  the  schemer  saw 
himself  reduced  to  submission,  for  the  present  at  least; 
and  more  than  ever  he  felt  the  necessity  of  Evelyn's 
fortune  to  fall  back  upon,  if  the  chance  of  the  cards 
should  rob  him  of  his  salary.  He  was  glad  to  escape  for 
a  breathing-while  from  the  vexations  and  harassments 
that  beset  him,  and  looked  forward  with  the  eager  in- 
terest of  a  sanguine  and  elastic  mind,  always  escaping 
from  one  scheme  to  another,  to  his  excursion  into 
B shire. 

At  the  villa  of  Mr.  Douce,  Lord  Vargrave  met  a  young 
nobleman  who  had  just  succeeded  to  a  property  not  only 
large  and  unencumbered,  but  of  a  nature  to  give  him 
importance  in  the  eyes  of  politicians.  Situated  in  a 
very  small  county,  the  estates  of  Lord  Doltimore  secured 
to  his  nomination  at  least  one  of  the  representatives, 
while  a  little  village  at  the  back  of  his  pleasure-grounds 
constituted  a  borough,  and  returned  two  members  to 
Parliament.  Lord  Doltimore,  just  returned  from  the 
Continent,  had  not  even  taken  his  seat  in  the  Lords; 
and  though  his  family  connections,  such  as  they  were, 
—  and  they  were  not  very  high,  and  by  no  means  in  the 
fashion,  —  were  ministerial,  his  own  opinions  were  as 
yet  nnrevealed. 

To  this  young  nobleman  Lord  Vargrave  was  singu- 
larly   attentive.     He   was   well    formed  to  attract   men 


154  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

younger  than  himself;  and  he  eminently  succeeded  in 
his  designs  upon  Lord  Doltimore's  affection. 

His  lordship  was  a  small,  pale  man,  with  a  very 
limited  share  of  understanding,  supercilious  in  manner, 
elaborate  in  dress,  not  ill-natured  au  fond,  and  with 
much  of  the  English  gentleman  in  his  disposition:  that 
is,  he  was  honorable  in  his  ideas  and  actions,  whenever 
his  natural  dulness  and  neglected  education  enabled  him 
clearly  to  perceive  (through  the  midst  of  prejudices,  the 
delusions  of  others,  and  the  false  lights  of  the  dissi- 
pated society  in  which  he  had  lived)  what  was  right 
and  what  wrong.  But  his  leading  characteristics  were 
vanity  and  conceit.  He  had  lived  much  with  younger 
sons,  cleverer  than  himself,  who  borrowed  his  money, 
sold  him  their  horses,  and  won  from  him  at  cards.  In 
return,  they  gave  him  all  that  species  of  flattery  which 
young  men  ran  give  with  so  hearty  an  appearance  of 
cordial  admiration.  "  You  certainly  have  the  best  horses 
in  Paris.  You  are  really  a  devilish  good  fellow,  Dolti- 
more.  Oh,  do  you  know,  Doltimore,  what  little  Desire 
says  of  you!  You  have  certainly  turned  the  girl's 
head." 

This  sort  of  adulation  from  one  sex  was  not  corrected 
by  any  great  acerbity  from  the  other.  Lord  Doltimore, 
at  the  age  of  twenty-two,  was  a  very  good  parti;  and 
whatever  his  other  deficiencies,  he  had  sense  enough  to 
perceive  that  he  received  much  greater  attention  — 
whether  from  opera-dancers  in  search  of  a  friend,  or 
virtuous  young  ladies  in  search  of  a  husband  —  than  any 
of  the  companions,  good-looking  though  many  of  them 
were,  with  whom  he  had  liabitually  lived. 

"  You  will  not  long  remain  in  town  now  the  season  ia 
over?  "  said  Vargrave,  as  after  dinner  he  found  himself, 
by  the  departure  of  the  ladies,  next  to  Lord  Doltimore. 


ALICE;  OR,    THE    MYSTEIIIES.  155 

"No,  indeed;  even  in  the  season  I  don't  much  like 
London.  Paris  has  rather  spoiled  me  for  any  other 
place. " 

"  Paris  is  certainly  very  charming,  —  the  ease  of 
French  life  has  a  fascination  that  our  formal  ostentation 
wants.  Nevertheless,  to  a  man  like  you,  London  must 
have  many  attractions." 

"Why,  I  have  a  good  many  friends  here;  but  still, 
after  Ascot,  it  rather  bores  me." 

"  Have  you  any  horses  on  the  turf  1  " 

"  Not  yet;  but  Legard  (you  know  Legard,  perhaps, — 
a  very  good  fellow)  is  anxious  that  I  should  try  my 
luck.  I  was  very  fortunate  in  the  races  at  Paris,  — you 
know  we  have  established  racing  there.  The  French 
take  to  it  quite  naturally." 

"Ah,  indeed!  It  is  so  long  since  I  have  been  in 
Paris:  most  exciting  amusement!  Apropos  of  races,  I 
am  going  down  to  Lord  Raby's  to-morrow;  I  think  I 
saw  in  one  of  the  morning  papers  that  you  had  very 
largely  backed  a  horse  entered  at  Knaresdean. " 

"  Yes,  Thunderer,  —  I  think  of  buying  Thunderer. 
Legard  —  Colonel  Legard  (he  was  in  the  Guards,  but 
he  sold  out)  —  is  a  good  judge,  and  recommends  the 
purchase.  How  very  odd  that  you  too  should  be  going 
to  Knaresdean!  " 

"  Odd,  indeed,  but  most  lucky!  We  can  go  together, 
if  you  are  not  better  engaged." 

Lord  Doltimore  colored  and  hesitated.  On  the  one 
hand,  he  was  a  little  afraid  of  being  alone  with  so 
clever  a  man;  on  the  other  hand,  it  was  an  honor,  —  it 
was  something  for  him  to  talk  of  to  Legard.  Neverthe- 
less, the  shyness  got  the  better  of  the  vanity :  he  excused 
himself,  —  he  feared  he  was  engaged  to  take  down 
Legard. 


156  ALICE;  OR,  THE   MYSTERIES. 

Luraley  smiled,  and  changed  the  conversation;  and  so 
agreeable  did  he  make  himself  that  when  the  party 
broke  up,  and  Lumley  had  just  shaken  hands  with  his 
host,  Doltimore  came  to  him,  and  said,  in  a  little 
confusion  — 

"  I  think  I  can  put  off  Legard  —  if  —  if  you  —  " 

"  That  's  delightful !  What  time  shall  we  start  1 
Need  not  get  down  much  before  dinner,  — one  o'clock?  " 

"  Oh,  yes!  —  not  too  long  before  dinner:  one  o'clock 
will  be  a  little  too  early." 

"Two,  then.     Where  are  you  staying?  " 

"At  Fenton's." 

"I  will  call  for  you, — good-night!  I  long  to  see 
Thunderer!  " 


ALICE;  OR,  THE  MYSTERIES.  157 


CHAPTER  VI. 

La  sante  de  I'ame  n'est  pas  plus  assuree  que  celle  du  corps ;  et 
quoique  Ton  paraisse  eloigne  des  passions,  on  n'est  pas  moind  en 
danger  de  s'y  laisser  importer  que  de  tomber  malade  quand  on 
se  porte  bien.^  —  La  Rochefoucauld. 

In  spite  of  the  efforts  of  Maltravers  to  shun  all  occasions 
of  meeting  Evelyn,  they  were  necessarily  sometimes 
thrown  together  in  the  round  of  provincial  hospitali- 
ties; and  certainly,  if  either  Mr.  Merton  or  Caroline 
(the  shrewder  observer  of  the  two)  had  ever  formed 
any  suspicion  that  Evelyn  had  made  a  conquest  of  Mal- 
travers, his  manner  at  such  times  effectually  removed  it. 
Maltravers  was  a  man  to  feel  deeply,  but  no  longer 
a  boy  to  yield  to  every  tempting  impulse.  I  have  said 
that  FORTITUDE  was  his  favorite  virtue;  but  fortitude 
is  the  virtue  of  great  and  rare  occasions.  There  was  an- 
other, equally  hard-favored  and  unshowy,  which  he  took 
as  the  staple  of  active  and  every-day  duties,  — and  that 
virtue  was  justice.  Now,  in  earlier  life,  he  had  been 
enamoured  of  the  conventional  Florimel  that  we  call 
HONOR, — a  shifting  and  shadowy  phantom,  that  is  but 
the  reflex  of  the  opinion  of  the  time  and  clime.  But 
justice  has  in  it  something  permanent  and  solid;  and 
out  of  justice  arises  the  real,  not  the  false  honor. 

1  The  health  of  the  soul  is  not  more  sure  than  that  of  the  body; 
and  although  we  may  appear  free  from  passions,  there  is  not  the 
less  danger  of  their  attack  than  of  falling  sick  at  the  moment  we 
are  well. 


158  ALICE  ;   Oil,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

"Honor!"  said  Mai tra vers,  "honor  is  to  justice  as 
the  flower  to  the  plant:  its  efflorescence,  its  bloom,  its 
consummation!  But  honor  that  does  not  spring  from 
justice  is  but  a  piece  of  painted  rag,  an  artificial  rose, 
which  the  men-milliners  of  society  would  palm  upon  us 
as  more  natural  than  the  true." 

This  principle  of  justice  Maltravers  sought  to  carry 
out  in  all  things,  —  not,  perhaps,  with  constant  success; 
for  what  practice  can  always  embody  theory  1  —  but  still, 
at  least,  his  endeavor  at  success  was  constant.  This, 
perhaps,  it  was  which  had  ever  kept  him  from  the  ex- 
cesses to  which  exuberant  and  liberal  natures  are  prone, 
—  from  the  extravagances  of  pseudo-genius. 

"  Xo  man,"  for  instance,  he  was  wont  to  say,  "  can  be 
embarrassed  in  his  own  circumstances,  and  not  cause 
embarrassment  to  others.  Without  economy,  who  can 
be  just?  And  what  are  charity,  generosity,  but  the 
poetry  and  the  beauty  of  justice  ?  " 

No  man  ever  asked  Maltravers  twice  for  a  just  debt ; 
and  no  man  ever  once  asked  him  to  fulfil  a  promise. 
You  folt  that,  come  what  would,  you  might  rely  upon 
his  word.  To  him  might  have  been  applied  the  witty 
euloginm  passed  by  Johnson  upon  a  certain  nobleman: 
"  If  he  had  promised  you  an  acorn,  and  the  acorn-season 
failed  in  England,  he  would  have  sent  to  Norway  for 
one:" 

It  was  not,  therefore,  the  mere  Norman  and  chival- 
rous spirit  of  honor,  which  he  had  worshipped  in  youth 
as  a  part  of  the  beautiful  and  becoming,  but  which  in 
youth  had  yielded  to  temptation,  as  a  senfiment  ever 
must  yield  to  a  passion,  but  it  was  the  more  hard, 
stubborn,  and  reflective  principle,  which  was  the  later 
growth  of  deeper  and  nobler  Avisdom,  that  regulated  the 
conduct  of  Maltravers  in  this  crisis  of  his  life.     Certain  it 


ALICE  ;   OR,   THK   MYSTERIES.  159 

is,  that  he  had  never  but  once  loved  as  he  loved  Evelyn; 
and  yet  that  he  never  yielded  so  little  to  the  passion. 

"If  engaged  to  another,"  thought  he,  "that  engage- 
ment it  is  not  for  a  third  person  to  attempt  to  dissolve. 
I  am  the  last  to  form  a  right  judgment  of  the  strength 
or  weakness  of  the  bonds  which  unite  her  to  Vargrave, 

—  for  my  emotions  would  prejudice  me  despite  myself. 
I  may  fancy  that  her  betrothed  is  not  worthy  of  her, 
but  that  is  for  her  to  decide.  While  the  bond  lasts, 
who  can  be  justified  in  tempting  her  to  break  iti" 

Agreeably  to  these  notions,  which  the  world  may, 
perhaps,  consider  overstrained,  whenever  Maltravers 
met  Evelyn,  he  intrenched  himself  in  a  rigid  and  almost 
a  chilling  formality.  How  difficult  this  was  with  one 
so  simple  and  ingenuous!  Poor  Evelyn!  she  thought 
she  had  offended  him;  she  longed  to  ask  him  her  offence, 

—  perhaps,  in  her  desire  to  rouse  his  genius  into  exer- 
tion, she  had  touched  some  secret  sore,  some  latent 
wound  of  the  memory  1  She  recalled  all  their  conver- 
sations again  and  again.  Ah!  why  could  they  not  be 
renewed?  Upon  her  fancy  and  her  thoughts  iVIaltravers 
had  made  an  impression  not  to  be  obliterated.  She 
wrote  more  frequently  than  ever  to  Lady  Vargrave, 
and  the  name  of  Maltravers  was  found  in  every  page 
of  her  correspondence. 

One  evening,  at  the  house  of  a  neighbor.  Miss 
Cameron  (with  the  Mertons)  entered  the  room  almost 
in  the  same  instant  as  Maltravers.  The  party  was 
small,  and  so  few  had  yet  arrived  that  it  was  impos- 
sible for  Maltravers,  without  marked  rudeness,  to  avoid 
his  friends  from  the  Rectory;  and  Mrs.  Merton,  placing 
herself  next  to  Evelyn,  graciously  motioned  to  Mal- 
travers to  occupy  the  third  vacant  seat  on  the  sofa,  of 
■which  she  filled  the  centre. 


IGO  ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

"  We  grudge  all  your  improvements,  Mr.  Maltravers, 
since  they  cost  us  your  society.  But  we  know  that  our 
dull  circle  must  seem  tame  to  one  who  has  seen  so  much. 
However,  we  expect  to  offer  you  an  inducement  soon  in 
Lord  Vargrave.     What  a  lively,  agreeable  person  he  is!" 

Maltravers  raised  his  eyes  to  Evelyn,  calmly  and 
penetratingly,  at  the  latter  part  of  this  speech.  He 
oljserved  that  she  turned  pale,  and  sighed  involuntarily. 

"He  had  great  spirits  when  I  knew  him,"  said  he; 
"  and  he  had  then  less  cause  to  make  him  happy. " 

Mrs.  Merton  smiled,  and  turned  rather  pointedly 
towards  Evelyn. 

Maltravers  continued,  "  I  never  met  the  late  lord. 
He  had  none  of  the  vivacity  of  his  nephew,  I  believe." 

"  I  have  heard  that  he  was  very  severe,"  said  Mrs. 
Merton,  lifting  her  glass  towards  a  party  that  had  just 
entered. 

"Severe!"  exclaimed  Evelyn.  "Ah,  if  you  could 
have  known  him, — the  kindest,  the  most  indulgent  — 
No  one  ever  loved  me  as  he  did."  She  paused,  for 
she  felt  her  lip  quiver. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Merton, 
coolly.  Mrs.  Merton  had  no  idea  of  the  pain  inflicted 
by  treading  iqwn  a  feeling.  Maltravers  was  touched, 
and  Mrs.  Merton  went  on.  "  No  wonder  he  was  kind 
to  you,  Evelyn,  —  a  brute  would  be  that;  but  he  was 
generally  considered  a  stern  man." 

"  I  never  saw  a  stern  look,  —  I  never  heard  a  harsh 
word;  nay,  I  do  not  remember  that  he  ever  even  used 
the  word  *  command,'  "  said  Evelyn,  almost  angrily. 

Mrs.  Merton  was  about  to  reply,  when  suddenly 
seeing  a  lady  whose  little  girl  had  been  ill  of  the 
measles,  her  motherly  thoughts  flowed  into  a  new  chan- 
nel, and  she    fluttered  away   in   that  sympathy  which 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  161 

unites  all  the  heads  of  a  growing  family.  Evelyn  and 
Maltravers  were  left  alone. 

"  You  do  not  remember  your  father,  I  believe  ?  "  said 
Maltravers. 

"  No  father  but  Lord  Vargrave ;  while  he  lived,  I 
never  knew  the  loss  of  one." 

"  Does  your  mother  resemble  you  ?  " 

"Ah,  I  wish  I  could  think  so;  it  is  the  sweetest 
countenance!  " 

"  Have  you  no  picture  of  her  1  " 

"  None,  —  she  would  never  consent  to  sit." 

"  Your  father  was  a  Cameron ;  I  have  known  some  of 
that  name." 

"  No  relations  of  ours ;  my  mother  says  we  have  none 
living." 

"  And  have  we  no  chance  of  seeing  Lady  Vargrave  in 
B shire  ?  " 

"  She  never  leaves  home ;  but  I  hope  to  return  soon 
to  Brook-Green." 

Maltravers  sighed,  and  the  conversation  took  a  new 
turn. 

"  I  have  to  thank  you  for  the  books  you  so  kindly 
sent,  —  I  ought  to  have  returned  them  ere  this,"  said 
Evelyn, 

"  I  have  no  use  for  them.  Poetry  has  lost  its  charm 
for  me,  especially  that  species  of  poetry  which  unites 
with  the  method  and  symmetry  something  of  the  cold- 
ness of  art.     How  did  you  like  Alfieri  1  " 

"  His  language  is  a  kind  of  Spartan  French,"  answered 
Evelyn,  in  one  of  those  happy  expressions  which  every 
now  and  then  showed  the  quickness  of  her  natural 
talent. 

"Yes,"  said  Maltravers,  smiling;  "the  criticism  is 
acute.     Poor  Alfieri !  —  in  his  wild  life  and  his  stormy 

U 


162  ALICE  ;   OK,    THE   MYSTERIES. 

passions  h3  threw  out  all  the  redundance  of  his  genius; 
and  his  poetry  is  but  the  representative  of  his  thoughts, 
not  his  emotions.  Happier  the  man  of  genius  who 
lives  upon  his  reason,  and  wastes  feeling  only  on  his 


I 


verse 


"  You  do  not  think  that  we  tcaste  feeling  upon  human 
beings  1  "  said  Evelyn,  with  a  pretty  laugh. 

"  Ask  me  that  question  when  )'ou  have  reached  my 
years,  and  can  look  upon  fields  on  which  you  have  lav- 
ished your  warmest  hopes,  your  noblest  aspirations, 
your  tenderest  affections,  and  see  the  soil  all  profit- 
less and  barren.  '  Set  not  your  heart  on  the  things  of 
%rth,'   saith  the  Preacher." 

Evelyn  was  afiected  by  the  tone,  the  words,  and  the 
melancholy  countenance  of  the  speaker. 

"  You,  of  all  men,  ought  not  to  think  thus,"  said  she, 
with  a  sweet  eagerness,  —  *' you  who  have  done  so  much 
to  awaken  and  to  soften  the  lieart  in  others ;  you  who  —  " 
She  stopped  short,  and  added,  more  gravely,  "Ah,  Mr. 
Maltravers,  I  cannot  reason  with  you,  but  I  can  hope 
you  will  refute  your  own  philosophy." 

"  Were  your  wish  fulfilled,"  answered  Maltravers, 
almost  with  sternness,  and  with  an  expression  of  great 
pain  in  his  compressed  lips,  "  I  should  have  to  thank 
you  for  much  misery."  He  rose  abruptly,  and  turned 
away. 

"How  have  I  offended  himl"  thought  Evelyn,  sor- 
rowfully. "I  never  speak  but  to  wound  him;  what 
have  I  done  1  " 

She  could  have  wished,  in  her  simple  kindness,  to 
follow  him  and  make  peace,  but  he  was  now  in  a  coterie 
of  strangers;  and  shortly  afterwards  he  left  the  room, 
and  she  did  not  see  him  again  for  weeks. 


ALICE;  OR,   THE   xMYSTERIES.  163 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Nihil  est  aliud  magnum  quam  multa  minuta.i  —  Vet.  Adct. 

An  anxious  event  disturbed  the  smooth  current  of  cheer- 
ful life  at  Merton  Rectory.  One  morning  when  Evelyn 
came  down  she  missed  little  Sophy,  who  had  contrived 
to  establish  for  herself  the  undisputed  privilege  of  a 
stool  beside  Miss  Cameron  at  breakfast.  Mrs.  Merton 
appeared  with  a  graver  face  than  usual.  Sophy  was 
unwell,  was  feverish;  the  scarlet  fever  had  been  in  the 
neighborhood.     Mrs.   Merton  was  very  uneasy. 

"  It  is  the  more  unlucky,  Caroline,"  added  the  mother, 
turning  to  Miss  Merton,  "  because  to-morrow,  you  know, 
we  were  to  have  spent  a  few  days  at  Knaresdean,  to  see 
the  races.  If  poor  Sophy  does  not  get  better,  I  fear 
you  and  Miss  Cameron  must  go  without  me.  I  can 
send  to  Mrs.  Hare  to  be  your  chaperon;  she  would  be 
delighted." 

"  Poor  Sophy !  "  said  Caroline  ;  "I  am  very  sorry  to 
hear  she  is  unwell ;  but  I  think  Taylor  M^ould  take 
great  care  of  her;  you  surely  need  not  stay,  unless  she 
is  much  worse." 

Mrs.  Merton,  who,  tame  as  she  seemed,  was  a  fond 
and  attentive  mother,  shook  her  head  and  said  nothing: 
but  Sophy  was  much  worse  before  noon.  The  doc- 
tor was  sent  for,  and  pronounced  it  to  be  the  scarlet 
fever. 

^  There  is  nothing  so  great  as  the  collection  of  the  minute. 


164  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

It  was  now  necessarj'  to  guard  against  the  infection. 
Caroline  had  had  the  complaint,  and  she  willingly  shared 
in  her  mother's  watch  of  love  for  two  or  three  hours. 
iMrs.  Merton  gave  up  the  party.  Mrs.  Hare  (the  wife 
of  a  rich  squire  in  the  neighborhood)  was  written  to, 
and  that  lady  willingly  agreed  to  take  charge  of  Caroline 
and  her  friend. 

Sophy  had  been  left  asleep.  When  Mrs.  Merton 
returned  to  her  bed,  she  found  Evelyn  quietly  stationed 
there.  This  alarmed  her;  for  Evelyn  had  never  had  the 
scarlet  fever,  and  had  been  forbidden  the  sick-room. 
But  poor  little  Sophy  had  waked  and  querulously  asked 
for  her  dear  Evy;  and  Evy,  who  had  been  hovering 
round  the  room,  heard  the  inquiry  from  the  garrulous 
nurse,  and  come  in  she  would;  and  the  child  gazed  at 
her  so  beseechingly  when  Mrs.  Merton  entered,  and 
said  80  piteously,  "  Don't  take  Evy  away,"  that  Evelyn 
stoutly  declared  that  she  was  not  the  least  afraid  of  in- 
fection, and  stay  she  must.  Nay,  her  share  in  the  nurs- 
ing would  be  the  more  necessary  since  Caroline  was  to 
go  to  Knaresdean  the  next  day. 

"  But  you  go  too,  my  dear  Miss  Cameron  1  " 

"Indeed  I  could  not:  I  don't  care  for  races;  I  never 
wi.shcd  to  go.  I  would  much  sooner  have  stayed ;  and 
I  am  sure  Sophy  will  not  get  well  without  me, — will 
you ,  dear  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes,  yes;  if  I'm  to  keep  you  from  the  nice 
races;  I  should  be  worse  if  I  thought  that." 

"But  I  don't  like  the  nice  races,  Sophy,  as  your 
sister  Carry  does.  She  must  go;  they  can't  do  without 
her,  —  but  nobody  knows  me,  so  I  shall  not  be  missed." 

"  I  can't  hear  of  such  a  thing,"  said  Mrs.  Merton, 
with  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  Evelyn  said  no  more  then; 
but  the  next  morning  Sophy  was  still  worse,  and  the 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  1G5 

mother  was  too  anxious  and  too  sad  to  think  more  of 
ceremony  and  politeness,  so  Evelyn  stayed. 

A  momentary  pang  shot  across  Evelyn's  breast  when 
all  was  settled;  but  she  suppressed  the  sigh  which 
accompanied  the  thought  that  she  had  lost  the  only 
opportunity  she  might  have  for  weeks  of  seeing  Mal- 
travers;  to  that  chance  she  had  indeed  looked  forward 
with  interest  and  timid  pleasure.  The  chance  was  lost, 
but  why  should  it  vex  her,  —  what  was  he  to  her  ] 

Caroline's  heart  smote  her,  as  she  came  into  the  room 
in  her  lilac  bonnet  and  new  dress;  and  little  Sophy, 
turning  on  her  eyes  which,  though  languid,  still  ex- 
pressed a  child's  pleasure  at  the  sight  of  finery,  ex- 
claimed, "How  nice  and  pretty  you  look,  Carry!  Do 
take  Evy  with  you :    Evy  looks  pretty  too !  " 

Caroline  kissed  the  child  in  silence,  and  paused  ir- 
resolute, glanced  at  her  dress,  and  then  at  Evelyn,  who 
smiled  on  her  without  a  thought  of  envy ;  and  she  had 
half  a  mind  to  stay  too,  when  her  mother  entered  with 
a  letter  from  Lord  Vargrave.  It  was  short :  he  should 
be  at  the  Knaresdean  races, —  hoped  to  meet  them 
there,  and  accompany  them  home.  This  information 
re-decided  Caroline,  while  it  rewarded  Evelyn.  In  a 
few  minutes  more  Mrs.  Hare  arrived;  and  Caroline, 
glad  to  escape  perhaps  her  own  compunction,  hurried 
into  the  carriage,  with  a  hasty  "God  bless  you  all! 
don't  fret.  I'm  sure  she  will  be  well  to-morrow;  and 
mind,  Evelyn,    you  don't  catch  the  fever!  " 

Mr.  Merton  looked  grave  and  sighed,  as  he  handed 
her  into  the  carriage ;  but  when,  seated  there,  she  turned 
round  and  kissed  her  hand  at  him,  she  looked  so  hand- 
some and  distinguished  that  a  sentiment  of  paternal 
pride  smoothed  down  his  vexation  at  her  want  of  feel- 
ing.    He  himself  gave  up  the  visit;  but  a  little  time 


166  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

after,  when  Sophy  fell  into  a  tranquil  sleep,  he  thought 
he  might  venture  to  canter  across  the  country  to  the 
race-ground,  and  return  to  dinner. 

Days,  nay,  a  whole  week  passed;  the  races  were  over, 
hut  Caroline  had  not  returned.  Meanwhile  Sophy's 
fever  left  her;  she  could  quit  her  bed,  her  room;  she 
could  come  downstairs  again,  —  and  the  family  was 
happy.  It  is  astonishing  how  the  least  ailment  in 
those  little  things  stops  the  wheels  of  domestic  life! 
Evelyn  fortunately  had  not  caught  the  fever:  she  was 
pale,  and  somewhat  reduced  by  fatigue  and  confinement; 
but  she  was  amply  repaid  by  the  mother's  swimming 
look  of  quiet  gratitude,  the  father's  pressure  of  the 
hand,  Sophy's  recovery,  and  her  own  good  heart. 
They  had  heard  twice  from  Caroline,  putting  off  her 
return.  Ladj'  Raby  was  so  kind,  she  could  not  get 
away  till  the  party  broke  up;  she  was  so  glad  to  hear 
such  an  account  of  Sophy. 

Lord  Vargrave  had  not  yet  arrived  at  the  Rectory  to 
stay ;  but  he  had  twice  ridden  over,  and  remained  there 
some  hours.  He  exerted  himself  to  the  utmost  to  please 
Evelyn ;  and  she  —  who,  deceived  by  his  manners,  and 
influenced  by  the  recollections  of  long  and  familiar 
acquaintance,  was  blinded  to  his  real  character  —  re- 
proached herself  more  bitterly  than  ever  for  her  repug- 
nance to  his  suit  and  her  ungrateful  hesitation  to  obey 
the  wishes  of  her  stepfather. 

To  the  Mertons,  Lumley  spoke  with  good-natured 
praise  of  Caroline:  she  was  so  much  admired;  she  was 
the  beauty  at  Knaresdean.  A  certain  young  friend  of 
his.  Lord  Doltimore,  was  evidently  smitten.  The 
parents  thought  much  over  the  ideas  conjured  up  by 
that  last  sentence. 


ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  1G7 

One  morning,  the  garrulous  Mrs.  Hare,  the  gossip 
of  the  neighborhood,  called  at  the  Rectory;  she  had 
returned,  two  days  before,  from  Knaresdean;  and  she, 
too,  had  her  tale  to  tell  of  Caroline's  conquests. 

"  I  assure  you,  my  dear  j\Irs.  jMerton,  if  we  had  not 
all  known  that  his  heart  was  preoccupied,  we  should 
have  thought  that  Lord  Vargrave  was  her  warmest  ad- 
mirer. Most  charming  man,  Lord  Vargrave!  —  but  as 
for  Lord  Doltiuiore,  it  was  quite  a  flirtation.  Excuse 
me, — no  scandal,  you  know,  ha,  ha!  —  a  fine  young 
man,  but  stifif  and.  reserved:  not  the  fascination  of  Lord 
Vargrave. " 

"  Does  Lord  Raby  return  to  town,  or  is  he  now  at 
Knaresdean  for  the  autumn  ?  " 

"  He  goes  on  Friday ,  I  believe ;  very  few  of  the 
guests  are  left  now.  Lady  A.,  and  Lord  B.,  and  Lord 
Vargrave  and  your  daughter,  and  Mr.  Legard,  and  Lord 
Doltimore,  and  Mrs.  and  the  Misses  Cipher, — -all  the 
rest  went  the  same  day  I  did." 

"  Indeed!  "  said  Mr.  Merton,  in  some  surprise. 

"Ah,  I  read  your  thoughts:  you  wonder  that  Miss 
Caroline  has  not  come  back,  —  is  not  that  it  ?  But  per- 
haps Lord  Doltimore  —  ha,  ha!  —  no  scandal  now  —  do 
excuse  me  !  " 

"  Was  Mr.  Maltravers  at  Knaresdean  ? "  asked  Mrs. 
Merton,  anxious  to  change  the  subject,  and  unprepared 
with  any  other  question.  Evelyn  was  cutting  out  a 
paper  horse  for  Sophy,  who  —  all  her  high  spirits  flown 
—  was  lying  on  the  sofa,  and  wistfully  following  her 
fairy  fingers.  "  Naughty  Evy,  you  have  cut  off  the 
horse's  head!  " 

"  Mr.  Maltravers,  —  no,  I  think  not;  no,  he  was  not 
there.  Lord  Raby  asked  him  pointedly  to  come,  and 
was,  I  know,  much  disappointed  that  he  did  not.     But 


168  ALICE;  OR,   THE  MYSTERIES. 

apropos  of  Mr.  Maltravers :  I  met  him  not  a  quarter  of 
au  liour  ago,  this  morning,  as  I  was  coming  to  you.  You 
know  we  have  leave  to  come  through  his  park,  and  as  I 
was  in  the  park  at  the  time,  I  stopped  the  carriage  to 
speak  to  him.  I  told  him  that  I  was  coming  here,  and 
that  you  had  had  the  scarlet  fever  in  the  house,  which 
was  the  reason  you  had  not  gone  to  the  races;  and  he 
turned  quite  pale,  and  seemed  so  alarmed.  1  said  we 
were  all  afraid  that  Miss  Cameron  should  catch  it;  and 
excuse  me  —  ha,  ha !  —  no  scandal  I  hope  —  but  —  " 

"Mr.  Maltravers,"  said  the  butler,  throwing  open 
the  door. 

Maltravers  entered  with  a  quick  and  even  a  hurried 
step;  he  stopped  short  when  he  saw  Evelyn;  and  his 
whole  countenance  was  instantly  lightened  up  by  a 
joyous  expression,   which  as  suddenly  died  away. 

"This  is  kind,  indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Merton;  "it  is 
so  long  since  we  have  seen  you." 

"I  have  been  very  much  occupied,"  muttered  Mal- 
travers, almost  inaudibly,  and  seated  himself  next 
Evelyn.  "I  only  just  heard  —  that  —  that  you  had 
sickness  in  the  house  —  Miss  Cameron,  you  look  pale  — 
you  —  you  have  not  suffered,  I  hope?  " 

"No,  I  am  quite  well,"  said  Evelyn,  with  a  smile; 
and  she  felt  happy  that  her  friend  was  kind  to  her  once 
more. 

"  It 's  only  me,  Mr.  Ernest,"  said  Sophy;  "  you  have 
forgot  me!  " 

Maltravers  hastened  to  vindicate  himself  from  the 
charge,  and  Sophy  and  he  were  soon  made  excellent 
friends  again. 

Mrs.  Hare,  whom  surprise  at  this  sudden  meeting 
had  hitherto  silenced,  and  who  longed  to  shape  into 
elegant  periphrasis  the  common  adage,  "  Talk  of,  etc.," 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  169 

now  once  more  opened  her  budget.  She  tattled  on, 
first  to  one,  then  to  the  other,  then  to  all,  till  she  had 
tattled  herself  out  of  breath;  and  then  the  orthodox 
half-hour  had  expired,  and  the  bell  was  rung  and  the 
carriage  ordered,  and  Mrs.  Hare  rose  to  depart. 

"  Do  just  come  to  the  door,  Mrs.  Merton,"  said  she, 
"  and  look  at  my  pony-phaeton,  it  is  so  pretty.  Lady 
Raby  admires  it  so  much;  you  ought  to  have  just  such 
another."  As  she  spoke,  she  favored  Mrs.  Merton  with 
a  significant  glance  that  said  as  plainly  as  glance  could 
say,  "  I  have  something  to  communicate."  Mrs.  Merton 
took  the  hint,  and  followed  the  good  lady  out  of  the 
room. 

"Do  you  know,  my  dear  Mrs.  Merton,"  said  Mrs. 
Hare,  in  a  whisper,  when  they  were  safe  in  the  billiard- 
room,  that  interposed  between  the  apartment  they  had 
left  and  the  hall,  "  do  you  know  whether  Lord  Vargrave 
and  Mr.  Maltravers  are  very  good  friends  1  " 

"  No,  indeed;  why  do  you  ask?  " 

"  Oh,  because  when  I  was  speaking  to  Lord  Vargrave 
about  him,  he  shook  his  head;  and  really  I  don't  re- 
member what  his  lordship  said ;  but  he  seemed  to  speak 
as  if  there  was  a  little  soreness.  And  then  he  inquired 
very  anxiously  if  Mr.  Maltravers  was  much  at  the  Rec- 
tory, and  looked  discomposed  when  he  found  you  were 
such  near  neighbors.  You  '11  excuse  me,  you  know,  — 
ha,  ha! — but  we're  such  old  friends! — and  if  Lord 
Vargrave  is  coming  to  stay  here,  it  might  be  unpleasant 
to  meet,  —  you  '11  excuse  77ie.  I  took  the  liberty  to  tell 
him  he  need  not  be  jealous  of  Mr.  Maltravers,  —  ha, 
ha!  — not  a  marrying  man  at  all.  But  I  did  think  Miss 
Caroline  was  the  attraction, — you'll  excuse  me:  no 
scandal ,  —  ha,  ha !  But  after  all ,  Lord  Doltimore 
must  be  the  man;  —  well,  good-morning.      I  thought 


170  ALICE;  OR,    THE   MYSTERIES. 

I  M  just  give  you  this  hint.  Is  not  the  phaeton  pretty? 
Kind  compliments  to  Mr.  Merton." 

And  the  lady  drove  off. 

During  this  confahulation,  Maltravers  and  Evelyn 
were  left  alone  with  Sophy.  Maltravers  had  continued 
to  lean  over  the  child,  and  appeared  listening  to  her 
prattle;  while  Evelyn,  having  risen  to  shake  hands 
with  Mrs.  Hare,  did  not  reseat  herself,  but  went  to  the 
window,  and  busied  herself  with  a  flower-stand  in  the 
recess. 

"  Oh,  very  fine,  Mr.  Ernest,"  said  Sophy  (always 
pronouncing  that  proper  name  as  if  it  ended  in  th)^ 
''  you  care  very  much  for  us  to  stay  away  so  long,  — . 
don't  he,  Evy  ?  I've  a  great  mind  not  to  speak  to  you, 
sir,  that  I  have!  " 

"  That  would  be  too  heavy  a  punishment,  Miss  Sophy, 
—  only,  luckily,  it  would  punish  yourself;  you  could 
not  live  without  talking,  —  talk,  talk,  talk!  " 

"  But  I  might  never  have  talked  more,  Mr.  Ernest,  if 
mamma  and  pretty  Evy  had  not  been  so  kind  to  me;  " 
and  tlie  child  shook  her  head  mournfully,  as  if  slie  had 
2)it>e  de  soi-meme.  "  But  you  won't  stay  away  so  long 
again,  will  you?  Sophy  play  to-morrow:  come  to- 
morrow, and  swing  Sophy,  —  no  nice  swinging  since 
you  've  been  gone." 

While  Sophy  spoke,  Evelyn  turned  half  round,  as  if 
to  hear  Maltravers's  answer;  he  hesitated,  and  Evelyn 
spoke : — 

"You  must  not  tease  Mr.  Maltravers  so:  Mr.  Mal- 
travers ha.s  too  much  to  do  to  come  to  us." 

Now  this  was  a  very  pettish  speech  in  Evelyn,  and 
her  cheek  glowed  while  she  spoke;  but  an  arch,  provok- 
ing smile  was  on  her  lips. 

"  It  can  be  a  privation  only  to  me,  Miss  Cameron," 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  171 

Baid  Maltravers,  rising,  and  attempting  in  vain  to  resist 
the  impulse  that  drew  him  towards  the  window.  The 
reproach  in  her  tone  and  words  at  once  pained  and  de- 
lighted him;  and  then  this  scene,  the  suffering  child, 
brought  back  to  him  his  first  interview  with  Evelyn 
herself.  He  forgot,  for  the  moment,  the  lapse  of  time, 
the  new  ties  she  had  formed,  — his  own  resolutions. 

"  That  is  a  bad  compliment  to  us,"  answered  Evelyn, 
ingenuously ;  "  do  you  think  we  are  so  little  worthy 
your  society  as  not  to  value  it?  But  perhaps,"  she 
added,  sinking  her  voice,  —  "perhaps  you  have  been 
offended ;  perhaps  I  —  I  —  said  —  something  that  —  that 
hurt  you. " 

"  You!  "  repeated  Maltravers,  with  emotion. 

Sophy,  who  had  been  attentively  listening,  here  put 
in,  "  Shake  hands  and  make  it  up  with  Evy,  —  you  've 
been  quarrelling,  naughty  Ernest!  " 

Evelyn  laughed,  and  tossed  back  her  sunny  ringlets. 

"I  think  Sophy  is  right,"  said  she  with  enchanting 
simplicity:  "  let  us  make  it  up;  "  and  she  held  out  her 
hand  to  Maltravers. 

Maltravers  pressed  the  fair  hand  to  his  lips.  "  Alas!  " 
said  he,  affected  with  various  feelings  which  gave  a 
tremor  to  his  deep  voice,  "your  only  fault  is,  that  your 
society  makes  me  discontented  with  my  solitary  home: 
and  as  solitude  must  be  my  fate  in  life,  I  seek  to  inure 
myself  to  it  betimes." 

Here  —  whether  opportunely  or  not,  it  is  for  the 
reader  to  decide  —  Mrs.  Merton  returned  to  the  room. 

She  apologized  for  her  absence,  talked  of  Mrs.  Hare 
and  the  little  Master  Hares,  —  fine  boys,  but  noisy ;  and 
then  she  asked  Maltravers  if  he  had  seen  Lord  Vargrave 
since  his  lordship  had  been  in  the  county. 

Maltravers  replied  with  coldness  that  he  had  not  had 


172  ALICE;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES. 

'v 

that  honor;  that  Vargrave  had  called  on  him  in  his  way 
from  the  Rectory  the  other  day,  but  that  he  was  from 
liome,  and  that  he  had  not  seen  him  for  some  years. 

"  He  is  a  person  of  most  prepossessing  manners," 
said  Mrs.  Merton. 

"  Certainly,  —  most  prepossessing." 

"  And  very  clever." 

"  He  has  great  talents." 

"  He  seems  most  amiable." 

Maltravers  bowed,  and  glanced  towards  Evelyn, 
whose  face,  however,  was  turned  from  him. 

Tlie  turn  the  conversation  had  taken  was  painful  to 
the  visitor,  and  he  rose  to  depart. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Mrs.  Merton,  "you  will  meet  Lord 
Vargrave  at  dinner  to-morrow;  he  will  stay  with  us  a 
few  days,  —  as  long  as  he  can  be  spared." 

^laltravers  meet  Lord  Vargrave!  the  happy  Var- 
grave !  the  betrothed  to  Evelyn !  Maltravers  witness 
tlie  familiar  rights,  the  enchanting  privileges  accorded 
to  another!  —  and  that  other  one  whom  he  could  not  be- 
lieve worthy  of  Evelyn!  He  writhed  at  the  picture  the 
invitation  conjured  up. 

"You  are  very  kind,  my  dear  Mrs.  Merton,  but  I 
expect  a  visitor  at  Burleigh,  —  an  old  and  dear  friend, 
Mr.  Cleveland." 

"Mr.  Cleveland!  —  we  shall  be  delighted  to  see  him 
too.  "We  knew  him  many  years  ago,  during  your  mi- 
nority, when  he  used  to  visit  Burleigh  two  or  three 
times  a-year. " 

"He  is  changed  since  then;  he  is  often  an  invalid. 
I  fear  I  cannot  answer  for  him ;  but  he  will  call  as  soon 
aa  he  arrives,  and  apologize  for  himself." 

Maltravers  then  hastily  took  his  departure.  He 
would  not  trust  himself  to  do  more  than  bow  distantly 


ALICE;  OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  1/3 

to  Evelyn :  she  looked  at  him  reproachfully.  So,  then, 
it  was  really  premeditated  and  resolved  upon,  —  his  ab- 
sence from  the  Rectory  ;  and  why?  She  was  grieved, 
she  was  offended;  but  more  grieved  than  offended, — 
perhaps  because  esteem,  interest,  admiration,  are  more 
tolerant  and  charitable  than  love ! 


174  ALICE;  OR,   THE  MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


Arethusa.     *Tis  well,  tny  lord,  your  courting  of  ladies. 

Claremont.  Sure  this  lady  has  a  good  turn  done  her  against  her  will. 

Philaster. 


In  the  breakfast-room  at  Knaresdean,  the  same  day,  and 
almost  at  the  same  hour,  in  which  occurred  the  scene 
and  conversation  at  the  Rectory  recorded  in  our  last 
chapter,  sat  Lord  Vargrave  and  Caroline  alone.  The 
party  had  dispersed,  as  was  usual,  at  noon.  They  heard 
at  a  distance  the  sounds  of  the  billiard-balls.  Lord 
Doltirnore  was  playing  with  Colonel  Legard,  one  of  the 
best  players  in  Europe,  but  who,  fortunately  for  Dolti- 
rnore, had,  of  late,  made  it  a  rule  never  to  play  for 
money.  Mrs.  and  the  Misses  Cipher,  and  most  of  the 
guests,  were  in  the  billiard-room  looking  on.  Lady 
Raby  was  writing  letters,  and  Lord  Raby  riding  over 
his  home  farm.  Caroline  and  Lumley  had  been  for 
some  time  in  close  and  earnest  conversation.  Miss 
Merton  was  seated  in  a  large  armchair,  much  moved, 
with  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes.  Lord  Vargrave, 
with  his  back  to  the  chimney-piece,  was  bending  down, 
and  speaking  in  a  very  low  voice,  while  his  quick  eye 
glanced,  ever  and  anon,  from  the  lady's  countenance  to 
the  windows,  to  the  doors,  to  be  prepared  against  any 
interruption. 

"No,  my  dear  friend,"  said  he,  "believe  me  that  I 
am  sincere.  My  feelings  for  you  are,  indeed,  such  as 
tut  words  can  uaint. " 


ALICE  ;  OR,   THE   MYSTEIUES.  175 

"  Then  wliy  —  ?  " 

"  Why  wish  you  wedded  to  another,  —  why  wed  an- 
other myself?  Caroline,  I  have  often  before  explained 
to  you  that  we  are  in  this  the  victims  of  an  inevitable 
fate.  It  is  absolutely  necessary  that  I  should  wed 
Miss  Cameron.  I  never  deceived  you  from  the  first. 
I  should  have  loved  her  —  my  heart  would  have  ac- 
companied my  hand  —  but  for  your  too  seductive  beauty, 
your  superior  mind! — yes,  Caroline,  your  mind  at- 
tracted me  more  than  your  beauty.  Your  mind  seemed 
kindred  to  my  own,  inspired  with  the  proper  and  wise 
ambition  which  regards  the  fools  of  the  world  as  pup- 
pets, as  counters,  as  chessmen.  For  myself,  a  very  angel 
from  heaven  couLl  not  make  me  give  up  the  great  game 
of  life,  —  yield  to  my  enemies,  slip  from  the  ladder, 
unravel  the  web  I  have  woven!  Share  my  heart,  my 
friendship,  my  schemes!  This  is  the  true  and  dignified 
affection  that  should  exist  between  minds  like  ours;  all 
the  rest  is  the  prejudice  of  children." 

"  Vargrave,  I  am  ambitious,  worldly,  —  I  own  it,  — 
but  I  could  give  up  all  for  you!  " 

"  You  think  so,  for  you  do  not  know  the  sacrifice. 
You  see  me  now  apparently  rich,  in  power,  courted; 
and  this  fate  you  are  willing  to  share;  and  this  fate 
you  shoxdd  share,  were  it  the  real  one  I  could  bestow 
on  you.  But  reverse  the  medal.  Deprived  of  office, 
fortune  gone,  debts  pressing,  destitution  notorious,  the 
ridicule  of  embarrassments,  the  disrepute  attached  to 
poverty  and  defeated  ambition,  an  exile  in  some  foreign 
town  on  the  poor  pension  to  which  alone  I  should  be 
entitled,  a  mendicant  on  the  public  purse;  and  that, 
too,  so  eaten  into  by  demands  and  debts,  that  there  is 
not  a  grocer  in  the  next  market-town  who  Avould  envy 
the   income   of  the  retired   minister!      Retire,  fallen, 


176  ALICE;   OK,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

despised,  in  the  prime  of  life,  in  the  zenith  of  my 
hopes!  Suppose  that  I  could  bear  this  for  myself,  could 
I  bear  it  for  you?  You,  born  to  be  the  ornament  of 
courts!  and  you,  could  you  see  me  thus,  —  life  embit- 
tered, career  lost,  —  and  feel,  generous  as  you  are,  that 
your  love  had  entailed  on  me,  on  us  both,  on  our  chil- 
dren, this  miserable  lot?  Impossible,  Caroline!  we  are 
too  wise  for  such  romance.  It  is  not  because  we  love 
too  little,  but  because  our  love  is  worthy  of  each  other, 
that  we  disdain  to  make  love  a  curse!  We  cannot 
wrestle  against  the  world,  but  we  may  shake  hands 
with  it,  and  worm  the  miser  out  of  its  treasures.  My 
heart  must  be  ever  yours;  ray  hand  must  be  Miss 
Cameron's.  Money  I  must  have !  —  my  whole  career 
depends  on  it.  It  is  literally  with  me  the  highway- 
man's choice,  —  money  or  life." 

Vargrave  paused,  and  took  Caroline's  hand. 

"I  cannot  reason  with  you,"  said  she;  "you  know 
the  strange  empire  you  have  obtained  over  nie,  and,  cer- 
tainly, in  spite  of  all  that  has  passed  "  (and  Caroline 
turned  pale),  "I  could  bear  anything  rather  than  that 
you  sliould  hereafter  reproach  me  for  selfish  disregard 
of  your  interests,  —  your  just  ambition." 

"  My  noble  friend!  I  do  not  say  that  I  shall  not  feel 
a  deep  and  sharp  pang  at  seeing  you  wed  another;  but 
I  shall  be  consoled  by  the  thought  that  I  have  assisted 
to  procure  for  you  a  station  worthier  of  your  merits  than 
that  which  I  can  offer.  Lord  Doltimore  is  rich;  you 
will  teach  him  to  employ  his  riches  well.  He  is  weak; 
your  intellect  will  govern  him.  He  is  in  love;  your 
beauty  will  suffice  to  preserve  his  regard.  Ah,  we  shall 
be  dear  friends  to  the  last!  " 

More  —  but  to  the  same  effect  —  did  this  able  and 
crafty  villain  continue  to  address  to  Caroline,  whom  he 


ALICE;    OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  177 

alternately  soothed,  irritated,  flattered,  and  revolted. 
Love  him  she  certainly  did,  as  far  as  love  in  her  could 
extend;  but  perhaps  his  rank,  his  reputation,  had  served 
to  win  her  affection;  and  not  knowing  his  embarrass- 
ments, she  had  encouraged  a  worldly  hope  that  if 
Evelyn  should  reject  his  hand  it  might  be  offered  to  her. 
Under  this  impression  she  had  trifled,  she  had  coquetted, 
she  had  played  with  the  serpent  till  it  had  coiled  around 
her,  and  she  could  not  escape  its  fascination  and  its 
folds.  She  was  sincere,  —  she  could  have  resigned  much 
for  Lord  Vargrave ;  but  his  picture  startled  and  appalled 
her.  For  difficulties  in  a  palace  she  might  be  prepared, 
perhaps  even  for  some  privations  in  a  cottage  ornee, 
but  certainly  not  for  penury  in  a  lodging-house!  She 
listened  by  degrees  with  more  attention  to  Vargrave's 
description  of  the  power  and  homage  that  would  be 
hers  if  she  could  secure  Lord  Doltimore :  she  listened, 
and  was  in  part  consoled.  But  the  thought  of  Evelyn 
again  crossed  her;  and  perhaps  with  natural  jealousy 
was  mingled  some  compunction  at  the  fate  to  which 
Lord  Vargrave  thus  coldly  appeared  to  condemn  one  so 
lovely  and  so  innocent. 

"But  do  not,  Vargrave,"  she  said,  —  "do  not  be  too 
sanguine;  Evelyn  may  reject  you.  She  does  not  see 
you  with  my  eyes :  it  is  only  a  sense  of  honor  that  as 
yet  forbids  jier  openly  to  refuse  the  fulfilment  of  an 
engagement  from  which  I  know  that  she  shrinks;  and 
if  she  does  refuse,  and  you  be  free,  —  and  I  another's  —  " 

"Even  in  that  case,"  interrupted  Vargrave,  "I  must 
turn  to  the  Golden  Idol ;  my  rank  and  name  must  buy 
me  an  heiress,  if  not  so  endowed  as  Evelyn,  wealthy 
enough,  at  least,  to  take  from  my  wheels  the  drag-chain 
of  disreputable  debt.  But  Evelyn,  —  I  will  not  doubt 
of  her!     Her  heart  is  still  unoccupied?  " 

12 


178  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES, 

"  True,  as  yet  her  affections  are  not  engaged." 

"  And  this  Maltravers,  —  she  is  romantic,  I  fancy,  — 
did  he  seem  captivated  by  her  beauty  or  her  fortune  ?  " 

"  !N'o,  indeed,  I  think  not;  he  has  been  very  little 
■with  us  of  late.  He  talked  to  her  more  as  to  a  child, 
—  there  is  a  disparity  of  years. " 

"  I  am  many  years  older  than  Maltravers,"  muttered 
Vargrave,  moodily. 

"  You !  but  your  manner  is  livelier,  and  therefore 
younger!  " 

"  Fair  flatterer!  Maltravers  does  not  love  me:  I  fear 
his  report  of  my  character  —  " 

"I  never  heard  him  speak  of  you,  Vargrave;  and  I 
will  do  Evelyn  the  justice  to  say  that  precisely  as  she 
does  not  love,  she  esteems  and  respects  you." 

"Esteems  —  respects:  these  are  the  feelings  for  a 
prudent  Hymen,"  said  Vargrave,  w^ith  a  smile.  "But, 
hark!  I  don't  hear  the  billiard-balls;  they  may  find  us 
here,  —  we  had  better  separate." 

Lord  Vargrave  lounged  into  the  billiard-room.  The 
young  men  had  just  finished  playing,  and  were  about 
to  visit  Thunderer,  who  had  won  the  race,  and  was  now 
the  property  of  Lord  Doltimore. 

Vargrave  accompanied  them  to  the  stables;  and  after 
concealing  his  ignorance  of  horseflesh  as  well  as  he 
could,  beneath  a  profusion  of  compliments  on  forehand, 
hind-quarters,  breeding,  bone  substance,  and  famous 
points,  he  contrived  to  draw  Doltimore  into  the  court- 
yard, while  Colonel  Legard  remained  in  converse  high 
with  the  head  groom. 

"  Doltimore,  I  leave  Knaresdean  to-morrow;  you  go 
to  London,  I  suppose?  Will  you  take  a  little  packet 
for  nie  to  the  Home  Office  ?  " 


1 


ALICE:   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  179 

"  Certainly,  when  I  go;  bv;t  I  think  of  staying  a  few 
days  with  Legard's  uncle,  the  old  admiral:  he  has  a 
hunting-box  in  the  neighborhood,  and  has  asked  us  both 
over. " 

"Oh!  T  can  detect  the  attraction,  but  certainly  it  is 
a  fair  one :  the  handsomest  girl  in  the  county ;  pity  she 
has  no  money." 

"  I  don't  care  for  money,"  said  Lord  Doltimore, 
coloring  and  settling  his  chin  in  his  neckcloth :  "  but 
you  are  mistaken;  I  have  no  thoughts  that  way.  Miss 
Merton  is  a  very  fine  girl ;  but  I  doubt  much  if  she  cares 
ior  me.  I  would  never  marry  any  woman  who  was  not 
very  much  in  love  with  me."  And  Lord  Doltimore 
^ughed  rather  foolishly. 

"  You  are  more  modest  than  clear-sighted,"  said  Var- 
grave,  smiling;  "but  mark  my  words,  I  predict  that 
the  beauty  of  next  season  will  be  a  certain  Caroline, 
Lady  Doltimore." 

The  conversation  dropped. 

"  I  think  that  will  be  settled  well,"  said  Vargrave  to 
himself,  as  he  was  dressing  for  dinner.  "  Caroline  will 
manage  Doltimore,  and  I  shall  manage  one  vote  in  the 
Lords  and  three  in  the  Commons.  I  have  already  talked 
him  into  proper  politics.  A  trifle  all  this,  to  be  sure; 
but  I  had  nothing  else  to  amuse  me,  and  one  must 
never  lose  an  occasion.  Besides,  Doltimore  is  rich, 
and  rich  friends  are  ahvays  useful.  I  have  Caroline, 
too,  in  my  power,  and  she  may  be  of  service  with  re- 
spect to  this  Evelyn,  whom,  instead  of  loving,  I  half 
hate:  she  has  crossed  my  path,  robbed  me  of  wealth; 
and  now,  if  she  does  refuse  me  —  but  no,  I  will  not 
think  of  that !  " 


180  ALICE;  OK,   THE  MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Out  of  our  reach  the  gods  have  laid 

Of  time  to  come  the  event ; 
And  laugh  to  see  the  fools  afraid 

Of  what  the  knaves  invent. 

SEDLETj/rom  Lycophron, 

The  next  day  Caroline  returned  to  the  Eectory  in  Lady 
Eaby's  carriage;  and  two  hours  after  her  arrival  came 
Lord  Vargrave.  Mr.  Merton  had  secured  the  principal 
persons  in  the  neighborhood  to  meet  a  guest  so  distin- 
guished, and  Lord  Vargrave,  bent  on  sliining  in  the  eyes 
of  Evelyn,  charmed  all  with  his  affability  and  wit. 
Evelyn,  he  thought,  seemed  pale  and  dispirited.  He 
pertinaciously  devoted  himself  to  her  all  the  evening. 
Her  ripening  understanding  was  better  able  than  hereto- 
fore to  appreciate  his  abilities;  yet  inwardly  she  drew 
comparisons  between  his  conversation  and  that  of  Mal- 
travers,  not  to  the  advantage  of  the  former.  There  was 
much  that  amused,  but  nothing  that  interested  in  Lord 
Vargrave 's  fluent  ease.  When  he  attempted  sentiment, 
the  vein  was  hard  and  hollow;  he  was  only  at  home  on 
worldly  topics.  Caroline's  spirits  were,  as  usual  in 
society,  high,  but  her  laugh  seemed  forced,  and  her  eye 
absent. 

The  next  day,  after  breakfast,  Lord  Vargrave  walked 
alone  to  Burleigh :  as  he  crossed  the  copse  that  bordered 
the  park,  a  large  Persian  greyhound  sprang  towards  him, 
barking  loudly;  and  lifting  his  eyes,  he  perceived  the 
form  of  a  man  walking  slowly  along  one  of  the  paths 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  181 

that  intersected  the  wood.  He  recognized  Maltravers. 
They  had  not  till  then  encountered  since  their  meeting  a 
few  weeks  before  Florence's  death ;  and  a  pang  of  con- 
science came  across  the  schemer's  cold  heart.  Years  rolled 
away  from  the  past,  —  he  recalled  the  young,  generous, 
ardent  man,  whom,  ere  the  character  or  career  of  either 
had  been  developed,  he  had  called  his  friend.  He  re- 
membered their  wild  adventures  and  gay  follies,  in  climes 
where  they  had  been  all  in  all  to  each  other ;  and  the 
beardless  boy,  whose  heart  and  purse  were  ever  open  to 
him,  and  to  whose  very  errors  of  youth  and  inexperi- 
enced passion  he,  the  elder  and  the  wiser,  had  led 
and  tempted,  rose  before  him  in  contrast  to  the  grave 
and  melancholy  air  of  the  baffled  and  solitary  man,  who 
now  slowly  approached  him,  —  the  man  whose  proud 
career  he  had  served  to  thwart;  whose  heart  his  schemes 
had  prematurely  soured;  whose  best  years  had  been 
consumed  in  exile, — a  sacrifice  to  the  grave  which  a 
selfish  and  dishonorable  villany  had  prepared!  Cesa- 
rini  the  inmate  of  a  mad-house,  Florence  in  her 
shroud,  —  such  were  the  visions  the  sight  of  Maltravers 
conjured  up.  And  to  the  soul  which  the  unwonted 
and  momentary  remorse  awakened,  a  boding  voice  whis- 
pered, "And  thinkest  tho%i  that  thy  schemes  shall 
prosper,  and  thy  aspirations  succeed  1  "  For  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  perhaps,  the  unimaginative  Vargrave 
felt  the  mystery  of  a  presentiment  of  warning  and  of 
evil. 

The  tAvo  men  met;  and  with  an  emotion  which 
seemed  that  of  honest  and  real  feeling,  Lumley  silently 
held  out  his  hand,  and  half  turned  away  his  head. 

"  Lord  Vargrave !  "  said  Maltravers,  with  an  equal 
agitation,  "  it  is  long  since  we  have  encountered." 

"  Long,  —  very  long,"  answered  Lumley,  striving  hard 


182  ALICE  ;    OR,   THE   MVSTEUIES. 

to  regain  his  self-possession ;  "  years  have  changed  us 
both;  but  I  trust  it  has  still  left  in  you,  as  it  has  in 
me,  the  remembrance  of  our  old  friendship." 

Maltravers  was  silent,  and  Lord  Vargrave  continued, — 

"  You  do  not  answer  me,  Maltravers :  can  political 
differences,  opposite  pursuits,  or  the  mere  lapse  of  time, 
have  sufficed  to  create  an  irrevocable  gulf  between  us? 
"Why  may  we  not  be  friends  again  ?  " 

"Friends!"  echoed  Maltravers;  "at  our  age  that 
word  is  not  so  lightly  spoken,  that  tie  is  not  so  un- 
thinkingly formed,  as  when  we  were  younger  men." 

"  But  may  not  the  old  tie  be  renewed  1  " 

"  Our  ways  in  life  are  different;  and  were  I  to  scan 
your  motives  and  career  with  the  scrutinizing  eyes  of 
friendship,  it  might  only  serve  to  separate  us  yet  more. 
I  am  sick  of  the  great  juggle  of  ambition,  and  I  have  no 
sympathy  left  for  those  who  creep  into  the  pint-bottle, 
or  swallow  the  naked  sword." 

"If  you  despise  the  exhibition,  why,  then,  let  us 
laugh  at  it  together,  for  I  am  as  cynical  as  yourself." 

"  Ah!  "  said  Maltravers  with  a  smile,  half  mournful, 
half  bitter,  "  but  are  you  not  one  of  the  impostors?  " 

"  Who  ought  better  to  judge  of  the  Eleusiniana  than 
one  of  the  initiated?  But,  seriously,  Avhy  on  earth 
should  political  differences  part  private  friendships? 
Thank  Heaven!  such  has  never  been  my  maxim." 

"If  the  differences  be  the  result  of  honest  convictions 
on  either  side,  no.     But  are  you  honest,  Lumley  ?  " 

"  Faith,  I  have  got  into  the  habit  of  thinking  so*,  and 
habit 's  a  second  nature.  However,  I  daresay  we  shall 
meet  yet  in  the  arena,  so  I  must  not  betray  my  weak 
points.  How  is  it,  Maltravers,  that  they  see  so  little 
of  you  at  the  Rectory  ?  you  are  a  great  favorite  there. 
Have  you  any  living  that  Charley  Merton  could  hold 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  183 

with  his  own?  You  shake  your  head.  And  what 
think  you  of  Miss  Cameron,  my  intended?  " 

"  You  speak  lightly.     Perhaps  you  —  " 

"  Feel  deeply,  —  you  were  going  to  say.  I  do.  In 
the  hand  of  my  ward,  Evelyn  Cameron,  I  trust  to  ob- 
tain at  once  the  domestic  happiness  to  wliich  I  have  as 
yet  been  a  stranger,  and  the  wealth  necessary  to  my 
career. " 

Lord  Vargrave  continued,  after  a  short  pause,  "  Though 
my  avocations  have  separated  us  so  much,  I  have  no 
doubt  of  her  steady  affection,  —  and  I  may  add,  of  her 
sense  of  honor.  She  alone  can  repair  to  me  what  else 
had  been  injustice  in  my  uncle."  He  then  proceeded 
to  repeat  the  moral  obligations  which  the  late  lord  had 
imposed  on  Evelyn,  —  obligations  that  he  greatly  mag- 
nified.    Maltravers  listened  attentively,  and  said  little. 

"  And  these  obligations  being  fairly  considered," 
added  Vargrave,  with  a  smile,  "  I  think,  even  had  I 
rivals,  that  they  could  scarcely  in  honor  attempt  to 
break  an  existing  engagement." 

"Not  while  the  engagement  lasted,"  answered  Mal- 
travers; "  not  till  one  or  the  other  had  declined  to  fulfil 
it,  and  therefore  left  both  free :  but  I  trust  it  will  be 
an  alliance  in  which  all  but  affection  will  be  forgotten, 
—  that  of  honor  alone  would  be  but  a  harsh  tie." 

"Assuredly,"  said  Vargrave;  and  as  if  satisfied  with 
what  had  passed,  he  turned  the  conversation,  —  praised 
Burleigli,  spoke  of  county  matters,  resumed  his  habitual 
gayety,  though  it  was  somewhat  subdued,  — and  promis- 
ing to  call  again  soon,  he  at  last  took  his  leave. 

Maltravers  pursued  his  solitary  rambles:  and  his 
commune  with  himself  was  stern  and  searching. 

"  And  so,"  thought  he,  "  this  prize  is  reserved  for 
Vargrave!     Why  should  I  deem  him  unworthy  of  the 


184  ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

treasure?  May  he  not  be  worthier,  at  all  events,  than 
this  soured  temper  and  erring  heart?  And  he  is  assured 
too  of  her  affection!  Why  this  jealous  pangi  Why 
can  the  fountain  within  never  be  exhausted?  Why, 
through  so  many  scenes  and  sufferings,  have  I  still  re- 
tained the  vain  madness  of  my  youth,  —  the  haunting 
susceptibility  to  love  ?     This  is  my  latest  folly. " 


BOOK  IV. 


'EffdXrjs  ifjifivov. 

S1MONIDE8. 

A  virtuous  woman  is  mau's  greatest  pride. 


BOOK  IV. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Abroad  uneasy,  nor  content  at  home. 

And  Wisdom  shows  the  ill  without  the  cure. 

Hammond:  Elegies. 

Two  or  three  days  after  the  interview  between  Lord 
Vargrave  and  Maltravers,  the  solitude  of  Burleigh  was 
relieved  by  the  arrival  of  Mr.  Cleveland.  The  good 
old  gentleman  when  free  from  attacks  of  the  gout, 
which  were  now  somewhat  more  frequent  than  for- 
merly, was  the  same  cheerful  and  intelligent  person 
as  ever.  Amiable,  urbane,  accomplished,  and  benevo- 
lent, there  was  just  enough  worldliness  in  Cleveland's 
nature  to  make  his  views  sensible  as  far  as  they  went, 
but  to  bound  their  scope.  Everything  he  said  was  so 
rational;  and  yet,  to  an  imaginative  person,  his  conver- 
sation was  unsatisfactory,  and  his  philosophy  somewhat 
chilling. 

"  I  cannot  say  how  pleased  and  surprised  I  am  at  your 
care  of  the  fine  old  place,"  said  he  to  Maltravers,  as, 
leaning  on  his  cane  and  his  ci-devant  pupil's  arm,  he 
loitered  observantly  through  the  grounds;  "I  see  every- 
where the  presence  of  the  master." 

And  certainly  the  praise  was  deserved !  The  gardens 
were  now  in  order;  the  dilapidated  fences  were  repaired; 
the  weeds  no  longer  encumbered  the  walks.  Nature 
was  just  assisted  and  relieved  by  art,  without  being 


188  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

oppressed  by  too  officious  a  service  from  her  handmaid. 
In  the  house  itself,  some  suitable  and  appropriate  re- 
pairs and  decorations  —  with  such  articles  of  furniture 
as  combined  modern  comfort  with  the  ancient  and  pic- 
turesque shapes  of  a  former  fashion  —  had  redeemed  the 
mansion  from  all  appearance  of  dreariness  and  neglect; 
while  still  was  left  to  its  quaint  halls  and  chambers  the 
character  which  belonged  to  their  architectiire  and  asso- 
ciations. It  was  surprising  how  much  a  little  exercise 
of  simple  taste  had  effected. 

"  I  am  glad  you  approve  what  I  have  done,"  said  Mal- 
travers.  "  I  know  not  how  it  was,  but  the  desolation  of 
the  place,  when  I  returned  to  it,  reproached  me.  We 
contract  friendship  with  places  as  with  human  beings, 
and  fancy  they  have  claims  upon  us;  at  least,  that  is  my 
weakness. " 

"  And  an  amiable  one  it  is  too ;  I  share  it.  As  for 
me,  I  look  upon  Temple  Grove  as  a  fond  husband  upon 
a  fair  wife.  I  am  always  anxious  to  adorn  it,  and  as 
proud  of  its  beauty  as  if  it  could  understand  and  thank 
me  for  my  partial  admiration.  When  I  leave  you,  I 
intend  going  to  Paris,  for  the  purpose  of  attending  a 

sale  of  the  pictures  and   effects  of  Monsieur  De  . 

These  auctions  are  to  me  what  a  jeweller's  shop  is  to 
a  lover;  but  tlien,  Ernest,  I  am  an  old  bachelor." 

"And  I,  too,  am  an  Arcadian,"  said  Maltravers,  with 
a  smile. 

"Ah,  but  you  are  not  too  old  for  repentance.  Bur- 
leigh now  requires  nothing  but  a  mistress." 

"  Perhaps  it  may  soon  receive  that  addition.  I  am 
yet  undecided  whether  I  shall  sell  it." 

"Sell  it!  sell  Burleigh!  —  the  last  memorial  of 
your  mother's  ancestry;  the  classic  retreat  of  the 
graceful  Digbys!     Sell  Burleigh!" 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  189 

"  I  had  almost  resolved  to  do  so  when  I  came  hither ; 
then  I  forswore  the  intention:  now  again  I  sometimes 
sorrowfully  return  to  the  idea." 

"And,  in  Heaven's  name,  why?  " 

"  My  old  restlessness  returns.  Busy  myself  as  I  will 
here,  I  find  the  range  of  action  monotonous  and  confined. 
I  began  too  soon  to  draw  around  me  the  large  circumfer- 
ence of  literature  and  action ;  and  the  small  provincial 
sphere  seems  to  me  a  sad  going  back  in  life.  Perhaps 
I  should  not  feel  this  were  my  home  less  lonely ;  but  as 
it  is,  —  no,  the  wanderer's  ban  is  on  me,  and  I  again 
turn  towards  the  lands  of  excitement  and  adventure." 

"  I  understand  this,  Ernest;  but  why  is  your  home  so 
solitary  1  You  are  still  at  the  age  in  which  wise  and 
congenial  unions  are  the  most  frequently  formed;  your 
temper  is  domestic;  your  easy  fortune  and  sobered  am- 
bition allow  you  to  choose  without  reference  to  worldly 
considerations.  Look  round  the  world,  and  mix  with 
the  world  again,  and  give  Burleigh  the  mistress  it 
requires." 

Maltravers  shook  his  head,  and  sighed. 

"I  do  not  say,"  continued  Cleveland,  wrapt  in  the 
glowing  interest  of  the  theme,  "  that  you  should  marry 
a  mere  girl,  —  but  an  amiable  woman,  who,  like  your- 
self, has  seen  something  of  life ,  and  knows  how  to  reckon 
on  its  cares,  and  to  be  contented  with  its  enjoyments." 

"  You  have  said  enough,"  said  Maltravers,  impa- 
tiently :  "  an  experienced  woman  of  the  world,  whose 
freshness  of  hope  and  heart  is  gone !  What  a  picture ! 
No ;  to  me  there  is  something  inexpressibly  beautiful  in 
innocence  and  youth.  But  you  say  justly, — my  years 
are  not  those  that  would  make  a  union  with  youth 
desirable,  or  well  suited." 

"  I  do  not  say  that,"  said  Cleveland,  taking  a  pinch 


100  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

of  snuff;  "  but  you  should  avoid  great  disparity  of  age, 
—  not  for  the  sake  of  that  disparity  itself,  but  because 
with  it  is  involved  discord  of  temper,  pursuits.  A  very 
young  woman,  new  to  the  world,  will  not  be  contented 
with  home  alone ;  you  are  at  once  too  gentle  to  curb  her 
wishes,  and  a  little  too  stern  and  reserved  (pardon  me 
for  saying  so)  to  be  quite  congenial  to  very  early  and 
sanguine  youth." 

"  It  is  true,"  said  Maltravers,  with  a  tone  of  voice 
that  showed  he  was  struck  with  the  remark ;  "  but  how 
have  we  fallen  on  this  subject  ?  Let  us  change  it :  I  have 
no  idea  of  marriage,  —  the  gloomy  reminiscence  of  Flor- 
ence Lascelles  chains  me  to  the  past." 

"  Poor  Florence !  she  might  once  have  suited  you;  but 
now  you  are  older,  and  would  require  a  calmer  and  more 
malleable  temper." 

"  Peace,  I  implore  you!  " 

The  conversation  was  changed;  and  at  noon  Mr. 
Merton,  who  had  heard  of  Cleveland's  arrival,  called 
at  Burleigh  to  renew  an  old  acquaintance.  He  invited 
them  to  pass  the  evening  at  the  Rectory;  and  Cleve- 
land, hearing  that  whist  was  a  regular  amusement,  ac- 
cepted the  invitation  for  his  host  and  himself.  But 
when  the  evening  came,  Maltravers  pleaded  indisposi- 
tion, and  Cleveland  was  obliged  to  go  alone. 

When  the  old  gentleman  returned,  about  midnight, 
lie  found  Maltravers  awaiting  him  in  the  library;  and 
Cleveland,  having  won  fourteen  points,  was  in  a  very 
gay,  conversable  humor. 

"You  perverse  hermit!"  said  he;  "talk  of  solitude, 
indeed,  with  so  pleasant  a  family  a  hundred  yards  dis- 
tant! You  deserve  to  be  solitary,  —  I  have  no  patience 
with  you.  They  complain  Ijitterly  of  your  desertion, 
and  say  you  were  at  first  the  enfant  de  la  maison." 


ALICE;   OK,   THE   MYSTERIES.  191 

"So  you  like  the  Mertons?  The  clergyman  is  sen- 
sible, but  commonplace." 

"A  very  agreeable  man,  despite  your  cynical  defini- 
tion, and  plays  a  very  fair  rubber.  But  Vargrave  is  a 
first-rate  player." 

"  Vargrave  is  there  still  1  " 

"  Yes;  he  breakfasts  with  us  to-morrow,  — he  invited 
himself." 

"Humph!" 

"He  played  one  rubber;  the  rest  of  the  evening  he 
devoted  himself  to  the  prettiest  girl  I  ever  saw,  —  Miss 
Cameron.  What  a  sweet  face,  —  so  modest,  yet  so  in- 
telligent! I  talked  with  her  a  good  deal  during  the 
deals,  in  which  I  cut  out.  I  almost  lost  my  heart  to 
her." 

"  So  Lord  Vargrave  devoted  himself  to  Miss  Cameron  1  " 

"  To  be  sure,  — you  know  they  are  to  be  married  soon. 
Merton  told  me  so.  She  is  very  rich.  He  is  the  lucki- 
est fellow  imaginable,  that  Vargrave!  But  he  is  much 
too  old  for  her;  she  seems  to  think  so  too.  ]  can't 
explain  why  I  think  it;  but  by  her  pretty,  resr^rved 
manner  I  saw  that  she  tried  to  keep  the  gay  minister  at 
a  distance;  but  it  would  not  do.  Now,  if  you  were  ten 
years  younger,  or  Miss  Cameron  ten  years  older,  ^ou 
might  have  had  some  chance  of  cutting  out  your  old 
friend." 

"  So  you  think  I  also  am  too  old  for  a  lover  1  " 

"  For  a  lover  of  a  girl  of  seventeen,  certainly.  You 
seem  touchy  on  the  score  of  age,  Ernest." 

"  Xot  I;  "  and  Maltravers  laughed. 

"No!  There  was  a  young  gentleman  present  who, 
I  think,  Vargrave  might  really  find  a  dangerous  rival : 
a  Colonel  Legard,  — one  of  the  handsomest  men  I  ever 
saw  in  my  life;  just  the  style  to  turn  a  romantic  young 


192  ALICE;   Ok,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

lady's  head;  a  mixture  of  the  wild  and  the  thorough- 
bred; black  curls,  superb  eyes,  and  the  softest  manners 
in  the  world.  But,  to  be  sure,  he  has  lived  all  his  life 
in  the  best  society.  Not  so  his  friend,  Lord  Doltimore, 
who  has  a  little  too  mucli  of  the  green-room  lounge  and 
French  cafe  manner  for  my  taste." 

"Doltimore,  Legard,  —  names  new  to  me;  I  never 
met  them  at  the  Rectory." 

"  Possibly;  they  are  staying  at  Admiral  Legard's,  in 
the  neighborhood.  Miss  Merton  made  their  acquaint- 
ance at  Knaresdean.  A  good  old  lady  —  the  most  per- 
fect Mrs.  Grundy  one  would  wish  to  meet  with  —  who 
owns  the  monosyllabic  appellation  of  Hare  (and  who, 
being  my  partner,  trumped  my  king!),  assured  me  that 
Lord  Doltimore  was  desperately  in  love  with  Caroline 
Merton.  By  the  way,  now,  there  is  a  young  lady  of  a 
proper  age  for  you, — handsome  and  clever  too." 

"  You  talk  of  antidotes  to  matrimony ;  and  so  Miss 
Cameron  —  " 

"  Oh,  no  more  of  Miss  Cameron  now,  or  I  shall  sit  up 
all  night;  she  has  half  turned  my  head.  I  can't  help 
pitying  her,  —  married  to  one  so  careless  and  worldly 
as  Lord  Vargrave;  thrown  so  young  into  the  whirl  of 
London.  Poor  thing!  she  had  better  have  fallen  in 
love  with  Legard,  which  I  daresay  she  will  do,  after 
all.     Well,  good-night!" 


ALICE;  OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  193 


CHAPTER  II. 

Passion,  as  frequently  is  seen, 
Subsiding,  settles  into  spleen ; 
Hence,  as  the  plague  of  happy  life, 
I  ran  away  from  party  strife. 

Matthew  Gbeen. 

Here  nymphs  from  hollow  oaks  relate 
The  dark  decrees  and  will  of  fate. 

Ibid. 

According  to  his  engagement,  Vargrave  breakfasted  the 
next  morning  at  Burleigh.  Maltravers,  at  first,  strug- 
gled to  return  his  familiar  cordiality  with  equal  gracious- 
ness.  Condemning  himself  for  former  and  unfounded 
suspicions,  he  wrestled  against  feelings  which  he  could 
not  or  would  not  analyze,  but  which  made  Lumley  an 
xmwelcome  visitor,  and  connected  him  with  painful 
associations,  whether  of  the  present  or  the  past.  But 
there  were  points  on  which  the  penetration  of  Maltravers 
served  to  justify  his  prepossessions. 

The  conversation,  chiefly  sustained  by  Cleveland  and 
Vargrave,  fell  on  public  questions;  and  as  one  was  op- 
posed to  the  other,  Vargrave 's  exposition  of  views  and 
motives  had  in  them  so  much  of  the  self-seeking  of  the 
professional  placeman  that  they  might  well  have  of- 
fended any  man  tinged  by  the  lofty  mania  of  political 
Quixotism.  It  was  with  a  strange  mixture  of  feelings 
that  Maltravers  listened;  at  one  moment,  he  proudly 
congratulated  himself  on  having  quitted  a  career  where 
such  opinions  seemed  so  well  to  prosper;  at  another, 
his  better  and  juster  sentiments  awoke  the  long  dor- 
13 


194  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

mant  combative  faculty,  and  he  almost  longed  for  the 
turbulent  but  sublime  arena,  in  which  truths  are  vin- 
dicated and  mankind  advanced. 

The  interview  did  not  serve  for  that  renewal  of  in- 
timacy which  Vargrave  appeared  to  seek ;  and  Maltravers 
rejoiced  when  the  placeman  took  his  departure. 

Lumley,  who  was  about  to  pay  a  morning  visit  to 
Lord  Doltimore,  had  borrowed  ^Er.  ]\Ierton's  stanhope, 
as  being  better  adapted  than  any  statelier  vehicle  to  get 
rapidly  through  the  cross-roads  which  led  to  Admiral 
Legard's  house;  and  as  he  settled  himself  in  the  seat, 
with  his  servant  by  his  side,  he  said  laughingly,  "  I 
almost  fancy  myself  naughty  Master  Lumley  again  in 
this  young-man-kind-of  two-wheeled  cockle-boat:  not 
dignified,  but  rapid,  eh]" 

And  Lumley's  face,  as  he  spoke,  had  in  it  so  much  of 
frank  gayety,  and  his  manner  was  so  simple,  that  Mal- 
travers  could  with  difficulty  fancy  him  the  same  man 
who,  five  minutes  before,  had  been  uttering  sentiments 
that  might  have  become  the  oldest-hearted  intriguer 
whom  the  hot-bed  of  ambition  ever  reared. 

As  soon  as  Lumley  was  gone,  Maltravers  left  Cleve- 
land alone  to  write  letters  (Cleveland  was  an  exemplary 
and  voluminous  correspondent),  and  strolled  with  his 
dogs  into  the  village.  The  effect  which  the  presence  of 
Maltravers  produced  among  his  peasantry  was  one  that 
seldom  failed  to  refresh  and  .soothe  his  more  bitter  and 
disturbed  thoughts.  They  had  gradually  (for  the  poor 
are  quick-sighted)  become  sensible  of  his  justice,  —  a 
finer  quality  than  many  that  seem  more  amiable.  They 
felt  that  his  real  object  was  to  make  them  better  and 
happier;  and  they  had  learned  to  see  that  the  means  he 
adopted  generally  advanced  the  end.  Besides,  if  some- 
times stern,  he  was  never  capricious  or  unreasonable; 


ALICE  ;  OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  195 

and  then,  too,  he  would  listen  patiently  and  advise 
kindly.  They  were  a  little  in  awe  of  him,  but  the 
aAve  only  served  to  make  them  more  industrious  and 
orderly;  to  stimulate  the  idle  man,  to  reclaim  the 
drunkard.  He  was  one  of  the  favorers  of  the  small - 
allotment  system, — not,  indeed,  as  a  panacea,  hut  as 
one  excellent  stimulant  to  exertion  and  independence ; 
and  his  chosen  rewards  for  good  conduct  were  in  such 
comforts  as  served  to  awaken  amongst  those  hitherto 
passive,  dogged,  and  hopeless,  a  desire  to  better  and 
improve  their  condition.  Somehow  or  other,  without 
direct  alms,  the  good-wife  found  that  the  little  savings 
in  the  cracked  tea-pot  or  the  old  stocking  had  greatly 
increased  since  the  squire's  return;  while  her  husband 
came  home  from  his  moderate  cups  at  the  ale-house  more 
sober  and  in  better  temper.  Having  already  saved  some- 
thing was  a  great  reason  why  he  should  save  more.  The 
new  school,  too,  was  so  much  better  conducted  than 
the  old  one:  the  children  actually  liked  going  there; 
and  now  and  then  there  were  little  village  feasts  con- 
nected with  the  school-room,  —  play  and  work  were  joint 
associations. 

And  Maltravers  looked  into  his  cottages,  and  looked 
at  the  allotment-ground;  and  it  was  pleasant  to  him  to 
say  to  himself,  "  I  am  not  altogether  without  use  in 
life."  But  as  he  pursued  his  lonely  walk,  and  the  glow 
of  self-approval  died  away  with  the  scenes  that  called  it 
forth,  the  cloud  again  settled  on  his  brow;  and  again  he 
felt  that  in  solitude  the  passions  feed  upon  the  heart. 
As  he  thus  walked  along  the  green  lane,  and  the  insect 
life  of  summer  rustled  audibly  among  the  shadoAvy 
hedges,  and  along  the  thick  grass  that  sprang  up  (m 
either  side,  he  came  suddenly  upon  a  little  group  that 
arrested  all  his  attention. 


196  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

It  was  a  woman,  clad  in  rags,  bleeding,  and  seemingly 
insensible,  supported  by  the  overseer  of  the  parish  and 
a  laborer. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  asked  Maltravers. 

"  A  poor  woman  has  been  knocked  down  and  rmi  over 
by  a  gentleman  in  a  gig,  your  honor,"  replied  the  over- 
seer. "  He  stopped,  half  an  hour  ago,  at  my  house  to 
tell  me  that  she  was  lying  on  the  road;  and  he  has 
given  me  two  sovereigns  for  her,  your  honor.  But, 
poor  cretur!  she  was  too  heavy  for  me  to  carry  her,  and 
I  was  forced  to  leave  her  and  call  Tom  to  help  me. " 

"  The  gentleman  might  have  stayed  to  see  what  were 
the  consequences  of  his  own  act,"  muttered  Maltravers, 
as  he  examined  the  wound  in  the  temple,  whence  the 
blood  flowed  copiously. 

"  He  said  he  was  in  a  great  hurry,  your  honor,"  said 
the  village  official,  overhearing  Maltravers.  "I  think 
it  was  one  of  the  grand  folks  up  at  the  Parsonage ;  for  I 
know  it  was  Mr.  Merton's  bay  horse,  — he  is  a  hot  un!  " 

"  Does  the  poor  woman  live  in  the  neighborhood  ? 
Do  you  know  herl  "  asked  Maltravers,  turning  from  the 
contemplation  of  this  new  instance  of  Vargrave's  selfish- 
ness of  character. 

"  No;  the  old  body  seems  quite  a  stranger  here,  —  a 
tramper,  or  beggar,  I  think,  sir.  But  it  won't  be  a 
settlement  if  we  take  her  in;  and  we  can  carry  her  to 
the  Chequers,  up  the  village,  your  honor." 

"  What  is  the  nearest  house,  —  your  own?" 

"  Yes ;  but  we  be  so  busy  now !  " 

"  She  shall  not  go  to  your  house,  and  be  neglected. 
And  as  for  the  public-house,  it  is  too  noisy;  we  must 
move  her  to  the  Hall." 

"  Your  honor!  "  ejaculated  the  overseer,  opening  hia 
eyes. 


ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  197 

"  It  is  not  very  far ;  she  is  severely  hurt.  Get  a 
hurdle;  lay  a  mattress  on  it.  Make  haste,  both  of 
you;  I  will  wait  here  till  you  return." 

The  poor  woman  was  carefully  placed  on  the  grass  by 
the  road-side,  and  Maltravers  supported  her  head,  while 
the  men  hastened  to  obey  his  orders. 


iy8  ALICE;   OR,  THE  MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Alse  from  that  forked  hill,  the  boasted  seat 
Of  studious  Peace  and  mild  I'hilosophy, 
Indignant  murmurs  mote  be  heard  to  threat. 

West. 

Mr.  Cleveland  wanted  to  enrich  one  of  his  letters 
with  a  quotation  from  Ariosto,  which  he  but  imperfectly 
remembered.  He  had  seen  the  book  he  wished  to 
refer  to  in  the  little  study,  the  day  before;  and  he 
quitted  the  library  to  search  for  it. 

As  he  was  tumbling  over  some  volumes  that  lay  piled 
on  the  writing-table,  he  felt  a  student's  curiosity  to 
discover  what  now  constituted  his  host's  favorite  reading. 
He  was  surprised  to  observe  that  the  greater  portion  of 
the  works  that,  by  the  doubled  leaf  and  the  pencilled 
reference,  seemed  most  frequently  consulted,  were  not 
of  a  literary  nature,  —  they  were  chiefly  scientific;  and 
astronomy  seemed  the  chosen  science.  He  then  remem- 
bered that  he  had  heard  Maltravers  speaking  to  a  builder, 
employed  on  the  recent  repairs,  on  the  subject  of  an 
observatory.  "This  is  very  strange,"  thought  Cleve- 
land; "he  gives  up  literature,  the  rewards  of  which  are 
in  his  reach,  and  turns  to  science,  at  an  age  too  late  to 
discipline  his  mind  to  its  austere  training." 

Alas  I  Cleveland  did  not  understand  that  there  are 
times  in  life  when  imaginative  minds  seek  to  numb  and 
to  blunt  imagination.  Still  less  did  he  feel  that,  when 
we  perversely  refuse  to  apply  our  active  faculties  to  the 
catholic  interests  of  the  world,  they  turn  morbidly  into 


ALICE  ;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  199 

channels  of  research  the  least  akin  to  their  real  genius. 
By  the  collision  of  minds  alone  does  each  mind  discover 
what  is  its  proper  product;  left  to  ourselves,  our  talents 
become  but  intellectual  eccentricities. 

Some  scattered  papers,  in  the  handwriting  of  Maltrav- 
ers,  fell  from  one  of  the  volumes.  Of  these,  a  few 
were  but  algebraical  calculations  or  short,  scientific  sug- 
gestions, the  value  of  which  Mr.  Cleveland's  studies 
did  not  enable  him  to  ascertain ;  but  in  others  they  were 
wild  snatclies  of  mournful  and  impassioned  verse,  which 
showed  that  the  old  vein  of  poetry  still  flowed,  though 
no  longer  to  the  daylight.  These  verses  Cleveland 
tliought  himself  justified  in  glancing  over;  they  seemed 
to  portray  a  state  of  mind  Avhich  deeply  interested  and 
greatly  saddened  him.  They  expressed,  indeed,  a 
firm  determination  to  bear  up  against  both  the  memory 
and  the  fear  of  ill ;  but  mysterious  and  hinted  allusions 
here  and  there  served  to  denote  some  recent  and  yet 
existent  struggle,  revealed  by  the  heart  only  to  the 
genius.  In  these  partial  and  imperfect  self-communings 
and  confessions,  there  was  the  evidence  of  the  pining 
affections,  the  wasted  life,  the  desolate  hearth  of  the 
lonely  man.  Yet  so  calm  was  Maltravers  himself, 
even  to  his  early  friend,  that  Cleveland  knew  not  what 
to  think  of  the  reality  of  the  feelings  painted.  Had 
that  fervid  and  romantic  spirit  been  again  awakened  by 
a  living  object?  If  so,  Avhere  was  the  object  found? 
The  dates  affixed  to  the  verses  were  most  recent.  But 
whom  had  Maltravers  seen?  Cleveland's  thoughts 
turned  to  Caroline  Merton,  to  Evelyn ;  but  when  he 
had  spoken  of  both,  nothing  in  the  countenance,  the 
manner,  of  Maltravers  had  betrayed  emotion.  And 
once  the  heart  of  Maltravers  had  so  readily  betrayed  it- 
self!    Cleveland  knew  not  how  pride,  years,  and  suffer* 


200  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

ing  school  the  features,  and  repress  the  outward  signs  of 
what  pass  within.  While  thus  engaged,  the  door  of  the 
study  opened  abruptly,  and  the  servant  announced  Mr. 
Merton. 

"  A  thousand  pardons,"  said  the  courteous  rector. 
"  I  fear  we  disturb  you;  but  Admiral  Legard  and  Lord 
Doltimore,  who  called  on  us  this  morning,  were  so 
anxious  to  see  Burleigh,  I  thought  I  might  take  the 
liberty.  We  have  come  over  quite  in  a  large  party, — 
taken  the  place  by  storm.  Mr.  Mai tra vers  is  out,  I 
hear;  but  you  will  let  us  see  the  house.  My  allies  are 
already  in  the  hall,  examining  the  armor." 

Cleveland,  ever  sociable  and  urbane,  answered  suit- 
ably, and  went  with  Mr.  Merton  into  the  hall,  where 
Caroline,  her  little  sisters,  Evelyn,  Lord  Doltimore, 
Admiral  Legard  and  his  nephew,  were  assembled. 

"  Very  proud  to  be  my  host's  representative  and  your 
guide,"  said  Cleveland.  "  Your  visit.  Lord  Doltimore, 
is  indeed  an  agreeable  surprise.  Lord  Vargrave  left  us 
an  hour  or  so  since,  to  call  on  you  at  Admiral  Legard's; 
we  buy  our  pleasure  with  his  disappointment." 

"It  is  very  unfortunate,"  said  the  admiral,  a  bluflf, 
harsh-looking  old  gentleman;  "  but  we  were  not  aware, 
till  we  saw  Mr.  Merton,  of  the  honor  Lard  Vargrave  has 
done  us.  I  can't  think  how  we  missed  him  on  the 
road." 

"  My  dear  uncle,"  said  Colonel  Legard,  in  a  peculiarly 
sweet  and  agreeable  tone  of  voice,  "  you  forget:  we  came 
three  miles  round  by  the  high-road;  and  Mr.  Merton 
says  that  Lord  Vargrave  took  the  short  cut  by  Langley 
End.  My  uncle,  Mr.  Cleveland,  never  feels  in  safety 
upon  land  unless  the  road  is  as  wide  as  the  British 
Channel ,  and  the  horses  go  before  the  wind  at  the  rapid 
pace  of  two  knots  and  a  half  an  hour !  " 


ALICE;  OR,   THE   MA'STERIES.  201 

"  I  just  wish  I  had  you  at  sea,  Mr,  Jackanapes,"  said 
the  admiral,  looking  grimly  at  his  handsome  nephew, 
while  he  shook  his  cane  at  him. 

The  nephew  smiled,  and  falling  back,  conversed  with 
Evelyn. 

The  party  were  now  shown  over  the  house ;  and  Lord 
Doltimore  was  loud  in  its  praises.  It  was  like  a  chateau 
he  had  once  hired  in  Normandy,  —  it  had  a  French 
character;  those  old  chairs  were  in  excellent  taste, — 
quite  the  style  of  Francis  I. 

"  I  know  no  man  I  respect  more  than  Mr.  Maltravers," 
quoth  the  admiral.  "  Since  he  has  been  amongst  us 
this  time,  he  has  been  a  pattern  to  us  country  gentle- 
men. He  would  make  an  excellent  colleague  for  Sir 
John.  We  really  must  get  him  to  stand  against  that 
young  puppy,  who  is  member  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons only  because  his  father  is  a  peer,  and  never  votes 
more  than  twice  a  session." 

Mr.  Merton  looked  grave. 

"  I  wish  to  Heaven  you  could  persuade  him  to  stay 
amongst  you,"  said  Cleveland.  "He  has  half  taken 
into  his  head  to  part  with  Burleigh !  " 

"Part  with  Burleigh!"  exclaimed  Evelyn,  turning 
abruptly  from  the  handsome  colonel,  in  whose  conversa- 
tion she  had  hitherto  seemed  absorbed. 

"  My  very  ejaculation  when  I  heard  him  say  so,  my 
dear  young  lady." 

"I  wish  he  would,"  said  Lord  Doltimore,  hastily,  and 
glancing  towards  Caroline.  "  I  should  much  like  to 
buy  it.  What  do  you  think  would  be  the  purchase- 
money  1  " 

"Don't  talk  so  cold-bloodedly,"  said  the  admiral, 
letting  the  point  of  his  cane  fall  with  great  emphasis  on 
the  floor.     "  I  can't  bear  to  see  old  families  deserting 


202  ALICE;   OR,    THE   JIYRTERIES. 

their  old  places,  —  quite  wicked.  You  Tiny  Burleigh! 
Have  not  you  got  a  country-seat  of  your  own,  my  lord? 
Go  and  live  there,  and  take  Mr.  Maltravers  for  your 
model ;  you  could  not  have  a  better. " 

Lord  Doltiraore  sneered,  colored,  settled  his  neck- 
cloth, and  turning  round  to  Colonel  Legard,  Avhispered, 
"  Legard,  your  good  uncle  is  a  bore." 

Legard  looked  a  little  offended,  and  made  no  reply. 

"  But,"  said  Caroline,  coming  to  the  relief  of  her 
admirer,  "  if  Mr.  INIaltravers  will  sell  the  place,  surely 
he  could  not  have  a  better  successor. " 

"  He  sha'n't  sell  the  place,  ma'am,  and  that 's  poz!  " 
cried  the  admiral.  "  The  whole  county  shall  sign  a 
round-robin  to  tell  him  it's  a  shame;  and  if  any  one 
dares  to  buy  it,  we  '11  send  him  to  Coventry." 

Miss  Merton  laughed,  but  looked  round  the  old  wains- 
cot Avails  with  unusual  interest:  she  thought  it  Avould 
be  a  fine  thing  to  be  Lady  of  Burleigh. 

"  And  what  is  that  picture  so  carefully  covered  up  ?  " 
said  the  admiral,  as  they  now  stood  in  the  library. 

"  The  late  Mrs.  Maltravers,  Ernest's  mother,"  replied 
Cleveland,  slowly.  "He  dislikes  it  to  be  shown,  —  to 
strangers;  the  other  is  a  Digby." 

Evelyn  looked  towards  the  veiled  portrait,  and 
tliought  of  Jier  first  interview  Avith  Maltravers;  but  the 
soft  voice  of  Colonel  Legard  murmured  in  her  ear,  and 
her  reverie  Avas  broken. 

Cleveland  eyed  the  colonel,  and  muttered  to  himself, 
"  Vargrave  should  keep  a  sharp  look-out." 

They  had  noAV  finished  their  round  of  the  shoAV  apart- 
ments, —  which,  indeed,  had  little  but  their  antiquity 
and  old  portraits  to  recommend  them,  —  and  A\'ere  in 
a  lobby  at  the  back  of  the  house,  communicating  Avith 
ft  courtyard,  tAvo  sides  of  Avhich  Avere  occupied  with  the 


ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  203 

stables.  The  sight  of  the  stables  reminded  Caroline 
of  the  Arab  horses ;  and  at  the  word  "  horses  "  Lord 
Doltimore  seized  Legard's  arm  and  carried  him  olf  to 
inspect  the  animals.  Caroline,  her  father,  and  the 
admiral  followed.  Mr.  Cleveland  happened  not  to 
have  on  his  walking-shoes,  and  the  flagstones  in  the 
courtyard  looked  damp;  and  Mr.  Cleveland,  like  most 
old  bachelors,  was  prudently  afraid  of  cold,  so  he  ex- 
cused himself  and  stayed  behind.  He  was  talking  to 
Evelyn  about  the  Digbys,  and  full  of  anecdotes  about 
Sir  Kenelm,  at  the  moment  the  rest  departed  so  abruptly; 
and  Evelyn  was  interested,  so  she  insisted  on  keeping 
him  company.  The  old  gentleman  was  flattered;  he 
thought  it  excellent  breeding  in  Miss  Cameron.  The 
children  ran  out  to  renew  acquaintance  with  the  pea- 
cock, who,  perched  on  an  old  stirrup-stone,  was  sunning 
his  gay  plumage  in  the  noonday. 

"  It  is  astonishing,"  said  Cleveland,  "  how  certain 
family  features  are  transmitted  from  generation  to  gen- 
eration! Maltravers  has  still  the  forehead  and  eyebrows 
of  the  Digbys,  —  that  peculiar,  brooding,  thoughtful  fore- 
head which  you  observed  in  the  picture  of  Sir  Kenelm. 
Once,  too,  he  had  much  the  same  dreaming  character  of 
mind;  but  he  has  lost  that,  in  some  measure  at  least. 
He  has  fine  qiialities,  Miss  Cameron;  I  have  known 
him  since  he  was  born.  I  trust  his  career  is  not  yet 
closed ;  could  he  but  form  ties  that  would  bind  him  to 
England,  I  should  indulge  higher  expectations  than  I 
did  even  when  the  wild  boy  turned  half  the  heads  in 
Gottingen. 

"  But  we  were  talking  of  family  portraits :  there  is 
one  in  th«  entrance  hall  which  perhaps  you  have  not 
observed;  »t  is  half  obliterated  by  damp  and  time,  yet 
it  is  of  9   '^markable  personage,  connected  with  Mai- 


204  ALICE;  OR,  THE   MYSTERIES. 

travers  by  ancestral  intermarriages,  —  Lord  Falkland, 
the  Falkland  of  Clarendon:  a  man  weak  in  character, 
but  made  most  interesting  by  history;  utterly  unfitted 
for  the  severe  ordeal  of  those  stormy  times ;  sighing  for 
peace  when  his  whole  soul  should  have  been  in  war; 
and  repentant  alike  whether  with  the  Parliament  or  the 
king,  but  still  a  personage  of  elegant  and  endearing 
associations;  a  student-soldier,  with  a  high  heart  and  a 
gallant  spirit.  Come  and  look  at  his  features,  —  homely 
and  worn,  but  with  a  characteristic  air  of  refinement  and 
melancholy  thought." 

Thus  running  on,  the  agreeable  old  gentleman  drew 
Evelyn  into  the  outer  hall.  Upon  arriving  there, 
through  a  small  passage  which  opened  upon  the  hall, 
they  were  surprised  to  find  the  old  housekeeper  and 
another  female  servant  standing  by  a  rude  kind  of  couch, 
on  which  lay  tlie  form  of  the  poor  woman  described  in 
the  last  chapter.  Maltravers  and  two  other  men  were 
also  there;  and  Maltravers  himself  was  giving  orders 
to  his  servants,  while  he  leaned  over  the  sufferer,  who 
was  now  conscious  both  of  pain  and  the  service  rendered 
to  her.  As  Evelyn  stopped  abruptly,  and  in  surprise, 
opposite  and  almost  at  the  foot  of  the  homely  litter,  the 
woman  raised  herself  up  on  one  arm,  and  gazed  at  her 
with  a  wild  stare;  then,  muttering  some  incoherent 
words,  which  appeared  to  betoken  delirium,  she  sank 
back,  and  was  again  insensible. 


ALICE  ;  OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  205 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Hence  oft  to  win  some  stubborn  maid. 

Still  does  the  wanton  god  assume 
The  martial  air,  the  gay  cockade, 

The  sword,  the  shoulder-knot,  and  plume. 

Marriott. 

The  hall  was  cleared;  the  sufferer  had  been  removed; 
and  Maltravers  was  left  alone  with  Cleveland  and 
Evelyn. 

He  simply  and  shortly  narrated  the  adventure  of  the 
morning;  but  he  did  not  mention  that  Vargrave  had 
been  the  cause  of  the  injury  his  new  guest  had  sus- 
tained. Now  this  event  had  served  to  make  a  mutual 
and  kindred  impression  on  Evelyn  and  Maltravers. 
The  humanity  of  the  latter,  natural  and  commonplace 
as  it  was,  was  an  endearing  recollection  to  Evelyn, 
precisely  as  it  showed  that  his  cold  theory  of  disdain 
towards  the  mass  did  not  affect  his  actual  conduct 
towards  individuals.  On  the  other  hand,  Maltravers 
had  perhaps  been  yet  more  impressed  with  the  prompt 
and  ingenuous  sympathy  which  Evelyn  had  testified 
towards  the  sufferer;  it  had  so  evidently  been  her  first 
gracious  and  womanly  impulse  to  hasten  to  the  side  of 
this  humble  stranger.  In  that  impulse ,  Maltravers  him- 
self had  been  almost  forgotten ;  and  as  the  poor  woman 
lay  pale  and  lifeless,  and  the  young  Evelyn  bent  over 
her  in  beautiful  compassion,  Maltravers  thought  she  had 
never  seemed  so  lovely,  so  irresistible,  — in  fact,  pity  in 
woman  is  a  great  beautifier. 


206  ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

As  Maltravers  finished  his  short  tale,  Evelyn's  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  him  with  such  frank,  and  yet  such 
soft  approval ,  that  the  look  went  straight  to  his  heart. 
He  quickly  turned  away,  and  abruptly  changed  the 
conversation. 

"  But  how  long  have  you  been  here.  Miss  Cameron, 
—  and  your  companions?" 

"  We  are  again  intruders;  but  this  time  it  is  not  my 
fault." 

"  No,"  said  Cleveland,  "  for  a  wonder  ;  it  was  male 
and  not  lady-like  curiosity  that  trespassed  on  Bluebeard's 
chamber.  But,  however,  to  soften  your  resentment, 
know  that  Miss  Cameron  has  brought  you  a  purchaser 
for  Burleigh.  Now,  then,  we  can  test  the  sincerity  of 
your  wish  to  part  with  it.  I  assure  you,  meanwhile, 
that  Miss  Cameron  was  as  much  shocked  at  the  idea  as 
I  was.     Were  you  not  1  " 

"  But  you  surely  have  no  intention  of  selling  Bur- 
leigh ]  "  said  Evelyn,  anxiously. 

"  I  fear  I  do  not  know  my  own  mind." 

"Well,"  said  Cleveland,  "here  comes  your  tempter. 
Lord  Doltimore,  let  me  introduce  Mr.  Maltravers." 

Lord  Doltimore  bowed. 

"Been  admiring  your  horses,  Mr.  Maltravers.  I 
never  saw  anything  so  perfect  as  the  black  one;  may  i 
ask  where  you  bought  him  1  " 

"  It  was  a  present  to  me,"  answered  Maltravers. 

"A  present?" 

"  Yes,  from  one  who  would  not  have  sold  that  horse 
for  a  king's  ransom,  — an  old  Arab  chief,  with  whom  I 
formed  a  kind  of  friendship  in  the  desert.  A  wound 
di.sabled  him  from  riding,  and  he  bestowed  the  liorse  on 
me  with  as  much  solemn  tenderness  for  the  gift  as  if  he 
had  given  me  his  daughter  in  marriage. " 


ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  207 

"I  think  of  travelling  into  the  East,"  said  Lord 
Doltimore,  with  much  gravity.  "  I  suppose  nothing 
will  induce  you  to  sell  the  black  horse  1  " 

"  Lord  Doltimore!  "  said  Maltravers,  in  a  tone  of  lofty 
surprise. 

"I  do  not  care  for  the  price,"  continued  the  young 
nobleman,   a  little  disconcerted. 

"  Xo ;  I  never  sell  any  horse  that  has  once  learned  to 
know  me.  I  would  as  soon  think  of  selling  a  friend. 
In  the  desert,  one's  horse  is  one's  friend.  I  am  almost 
an  Arab  myself  in  these  matters." 

"  But  talking  of  sale  and  barter  reminds  me  of  Bur- 
leigh," said  Cleveland,  maliciously.  "  Lord  Doltimore 
is  a  universal  buyer.  He  covets  all  your  goods :  he  will 
take  the  house  if  he  can't  have  the  stables." 

"I  only  mean,"  said  Lord  Doltimore,  rather  peev- 
ishly, "  that  if  you  wish  to  part  with  Burleigh,  I  should 
like  to  have  the  option  of  purchase." 

"  I  will  remember  it,  if  I  determine  to  sell  the  place," 
answered  Maltravers,  smiling  gravely ;  "  at  present  I  am 
undecided." 

He  turned  away  towards  Evelyn  as  he  spoke,  and 
almost  started  to  observe  that  she  was  joined  by  a 
stranger,  whose  approach  he  had  not  before  noticed; 
and  that  stranger  a  man  of  such  remarkable  personal 
advantages  that,  had  Maltravers  been  in  Vargrave's 
position,  he  might  reasonably  have  experienced  a  pang 
of  jealous  apprehension.  Slightly  above  the  common 
height;  slender,  yet  strongly  formed;  set  off  by  every 
advantage  of  dress,  of  air,  of  the  nameless  tone  and  per- 
vading refinement  that  sometimes,  though  not  always, 
springs  from  early  and  habitual  intercourse  with  the 
most  polished  female  society,  —  Colonel  Legard,  at  the 
age   of   eight  and  twenty,    had    acquired    a    reputation 


208  ALICE  ;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES. 

for  beauty  almost  as  popular  and  as  well  known  as 
that  which  men  usually  acquire  by  mental  qualifica- 
tions. Yet  there  was  nothing  effeminate  in  his  coun- 
tenance, the  symmetrical  features  of  which  were  made 
masculine  and  expressive  by  the  rich  olive  of  the  com- 
plexion, and  the  close  jetty  curls  of  the  Antinous-like 
hair. 

They  seemed,  as  they  there  stood  —  Evelyn  and 
Legard  —  so  well  suited  to  each  other  in  personal  ad- 
vantages, their  different  styles  so  happily  contrasted, 
and  Legard,  at  the  moment,  was  regarding  her  with  such 
respectful  admiration,  and  whispering  compliment  to  her 
in  so  subdued  a  tone,  that  the  dullest  observer  might 
have  ventured  a  prophecy  by  no  means  agreeable  to  the 
hopes  of  Lumley,  Lord  Vargrave. 

But  a  feeling  or  fear  of  this  nature  was  not  that  which 
occurred  to  Maltravers,  or  dictated  his  startled  exclama- 
tion of  surprise. 

Legard  looked  up  as  he  heard  the  exclamation,  and 
saw  Maltravers,  whose  back  had  hitherto  been  turned 
towards  him.  He,  too,  was  evidently  surprised,  and 
seemingly  confu.sed;  the  color  mounted  to  his  cheek, 
and  then  left  it  pale. 

"  Colonel  Legard,"  said  Cleveland,  "  a  thousand  apolo- 
gies for  my  neglect:  I  really  did  not  observe  you  enter, 
—  you  came  round  by  the  front  door,  I  suppose.  Let 
me  make  you  acquainted  with  Mr.   Maltravers." 

Legard  bowed  low. 

"We  have  met  before,"  said  he,  in  embarrassed 
accents:  "at  Venice,  I  think?" 

Maltravers  inclined  his  head  rather  stiffly  at  first,  but 
then,  as  if  moved  by  a  second  impulse,  held  out  his 
hand  cordially. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Ernest,  here  you  are!  "  cried  Sophy, bound- 


ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  209 

ing  into  the  hall,   followed  by  Mr.   Merton,   the  old 
admiral,  Caroline,  and  Cecilia. 

The  interruption  seemed  welcome  and  opportune. 
The  admiral,  with  blunt  cordiality,  expressed  his 
pleasure  at  being  made  known  to  Mr.  Maltravers. 

The  conversation  grew  general ;  refreshments  were 
proffered  and  declined;  the  visit  drew  to  its  close. 

It  so  happened  that,  as  the  guests  departed,  Evelyn, 
from  whose  side  the  constant  colonel  had  insensibly 
melted  away,  lingered  last,  —  save,  indeed,  the  admiral, 
who  was  discussing  with  Cleveland  a  new  specific  for 
the  gout.  And  as  Maltravers  stood  on  the  steps,  Evelyn 
turned  to  him  with  all  her  beautiful  naivete  of  mingled 
timidity  and  kindness,  and  said,  — 

"  And  are  we  really  never  to  see  you  again;  never  to 
hear  again  your  tales  of  Egypt  and  Arabia;  never  to 
talk  over  Tasso  and  Dante?  No  books,  no  talk,  no  dis- 
putes, no  quarrels  ?  What  have  we  done  ?  I  thought 
we  had  made  it  up,  and  y^i  you  are  still  unforgiving. 
Give  me  a  good  scold,  and  be  friends!  " 

"Friends!  —  you  have  no  friend  more  anxious,  more 
devoted  than  I  am.  Young,  rich,  fascinating  as  you 
are,  you  will  carve  no  impression  on  human  hearts 
deeper  than  that  you  have  graven  here !  " 

Carried  away  by  the  charm  of  her  childlike  famil- 
iarity and  enchanting  sweetness,  Maltravers  had  said 
more  than  he  intended;  yet  his  eyes,  his  emotions,  said 
more  than  his  words. 

Evelyn  colored  deeply,  and  her  whole  manner  changed. 
However,  she  turned  away,  and  saying,  with  a  forced 
gayety,  "  Well,  then,  you  will  not  desert  us,  — we  shall 
see  you  once  more  1  "  hurried  down  the  steps  to  join  her 
companions. 

14 


210  ALICE;   OR   THE   MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER  V. 

See  how  the  skilful  lover  spreads  his  toils.  —  Stillinqflebt. 

The  party  had  not  long  returned  to  the  Rectory,  and 
the  admiral's  carriage  was  ordered,  when  Lord  Var- 
grave  made  his  appearance.  He  descanted  with  gay 
good-humor  on  his  long  drive,  the  bad  roads,  and  his 
disappointment  at  the  contretemps  that  awaited  him; 
then  drawing  aside  Colonel  Legard,  who  seemed  un- 
usually silent  and  abstracted,  he  said  to  him, — 

"  My  dear  colonel,  my  visit  this  morning  was  rather 
to  you  than  to  Doltimore.  I  confess  that  I  should  like 
to  see  your  abilities  enlisted  on  the  side  of  the  govern- 
ment ;  and  knowing  that  the  post  of  Storekeeper  to  the 
Ordnance  will  be  vacant  in  a  day  or  two  by  the  pro- 
motion  of   Mr.   ,  I  wrote    to   secure   the    refusal; 

to-day's  post  brings  me  the  answer.  I  offer  the  place 
to  you;  and  I  trust,  before  long,  to  procure  you  also  a 
seat  in  Parliament.  But  you  must  start  for  London 
immediately." 

A  week  ago,  and  Legard's  utmost  ambition  would 
have  been  amply  gratified  by  this  post;  he  now 
hesitated. 

"  My  dear  lord,"  said  he,  "  I  cannot  say  how  grateful 
I  feel  for  your  kindness;  but — but  —  " 

"  Enough :  no  thanks,  my  dear  Legard.  Can  you  go 
to  town  to-morrow  1  " 

"  Indeed,"  said  Legard,  "  I  fear  not;  I  must  consult 
my  uncle." 


ALICE;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES.  211 

"  I  can  answer  for  him ;  I  sounded  him  before  I  wrote. 
Reflect!  You  are  not  rich,  my  dear  Legard;  it  is  an 
excellent  opening;  a  seat  in  Parliament  too!  Why, 
what  can  be  your  reason  for  hesitation  1  " 

There  was  something  meaning  and  inquisitive  in  the 
tone  of  voice  in  which  this  question  was  put,  that 
brought  the  color  to  the  colonel's  cheek.  He  knew 
not  well  what  to  reply;  and  he  began,  too,  to  think 
that  he  ought  not  to  refuse  the  appointment.  Nay, 
would  his  uncle,  on  whom  he  was  dependent,  consent 
to  such  a  refusal?  Lord  Vargrave  saw  the  irresolution, 
and  proceeded.  He  spent  ten  minutes  in  combating 
every  scruple,  every  objection;  he  placed  all  the  advan- 
tages of  the  post,  real  or  imaginary,  in  every  conceiv- 
able point  of  view  before  the  colonel's  eyes;  he  sought 
to  flatter,  to  wheedle,  to  coax,  to  weary  him  into  ac- 
cepting it;  and  he  at  length  partially  succeeded.  The 
colonel  petitioned  for  three  days'  consideration,  which 
Vargrave  reluctantly  acceded  to;  and  Legard  then 
stepped  into  his  uncle's  carriage,  with  the  air  rather 
of  a  martyr  than  a  maiden  placeman. 

"  Aha!  "  said  Vargrave,  chuckling  to  himself  as  he 
took  a  turn  in  the  grounds,  "  I  have  got  rid  of  that 
handsome  knave;  and  now  I  shall  have  Evelyn  all  to 
myself!" 


212  ALICE;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

I  am  forfeited  to  eternal  disgrace  if  you  do  not  commiserate. 

Go  to,  then,  raise,  recover. 

Ben  Jonson  :  Poetaster. 

The  next  morning  Admiral  Legard  and  his  nephew 
were  conversing  in  the  little  cabin  consecrated  by  the 
name  of  the  admiral's  "own  room." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  veteran,  "  it  would  be  moonshine  and 
madness  not  to  accept  Vargrave's  offer,  though  one  can 
see  through  such  a  millstone  as  that  with  half  an  eye. 
His  lordship  is  jealous  of  such  a  fine  handsome  young 
fellow  as  you  are,  —  and  very  justly.  But  as  long  as 
he  is  under  the  same  roof  with  Miss  Cameron,  you  will 
have  no  opportunity  to  pay  your  court;  when  he  goes, 
you  can  always  manage  to  be  in  her  neighborhood ;  and 
then,  you  know,  —  puppy  that  you  are, — her  business 
will  be  very  soon  settled."  And  the  admiral  eyed  the 
handsome  colonel  with  grim  fondness. 

Legard  sighed. 

"  Have  you  any  commands  at ?  "  said  he.     "  I  am 

just  going  to  canter  over  there  before  Doltimore  is  up." 

"  Sad,  lazy  dog,  your  friend." 

"  I  shall  be  back  by  twelve. " 

"  What  are  you  going  to for?  " 

"Brookes,  the  farrier,  has  a  little  spaniel, — King 
Charles's  breed.  Miss  Cameron  is  fond  of  dogs.  I  can 
send  it  to  her,  with  my  compliments;  it  will  be  a  sort 
of  leave-taking." 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  213 

"Sly  rogue;  ha,  ha!  d d  sly;  ha,  ha!"  and  the 

admiral  punched  the  slender  waist  of  his  nephew,  and 
lauglied  till  the  tears  ran  down  his  cheeks. 

"Good-hy,sir." 

"  Stop ,  George ;  I  forgot  to  ask  you  a  question :  you 
never  told  me  you  knew  Mr.  Maltravers.  Why  don't 
you  cultivate  his  acquaintance  ?  " 

"  We  met  at  Venice  accidentally.  I  did  not  know 
his  name  then ;  he  left  just  as  I  arrived.  As  you  say, 
I  ought  to  cultivate  his  acquaintance." 

"  Fine  character !  " 

"Very!"  said  Legard,  with  energy,  as  he  abruptly 
quitted  the   room. 

George  Legard  was  an  orphan.  His  father  —  the 
admiral's  elder  brother  —  had  been  a  spendthrift  man  of 
fashion,  with  a  tolerably  large  unentailed  estate.  He 
married  a  duke's  daughter  without  a  sixpence.  Estates 
are  troublesome;  Mr.  Legard's  was  sold.  On  the 
purchase -money  the  happy  pair  lived  for  some  years  in 
great  comfort,  when  Mr.  Legard  died  of  a  brain  fever, 
and  his  disconsolate  widow  found  herself  alone  in  the 
world  with  a  beautiful  little  curly-headed  boy,  and  an 
annuity  of  one  thousand  a  year,  for  which  her  settle- 
ment had  been  exchanged;  all  the  rest  of  the  fortune 
was  gone,  —  a  discovery  not  made  till  Mr.  Legard's  death. 
Lady  Louisa  did  not  long  survive  the  loss  of  her  hus- 
band and  her  station  in  society;  her  income,  of  course, 
died  with  herself.  Her  only  child  was  brought  up  in 
the  house  of  his  grandfather,  the  duke,  till  he  was  of 
age  to  hold  the  office  of  king's  page;  thence,  as  is  cus- 
tomary, he  was  promoted  to  a  commission  in  the  Guards. 
To  the  munificent  emoluments  of  his  pay  the  ducal 
family  liberally  added  an  allowance  of  two  hundred  a 
year,  upon  which   income  Cornet  Legard  contrived  to 


214  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

get  very  handsomely  in  debt.  The  extraordinary  beauty 
of  his  person,  his  connections,  and  his  manners,  obtained 
him  all  the  celebrity  that  fashion  can  bestow ;  but  pov- 
erty is  a  bad  thing.  Luckily,  at  this  time  his  uncle, 
the  admiral ,  returned  from  sea,  to  settle  for  the  rest  of 
his  life  in  England. 

Hitherto  the  admiral  had  taken  no  notice  of  George. 
He  himself  had  married  a  merchant's  daughter,  with  a 
fair  portion,  and  had  been  blessed  with  two  children, 
who  monopolized  all  his  affection.  But  there  seemed 
some  mortality  in  the  Legard  family;  in  one  year  after 

returning  to  England  and  settling  in  B shire,  the 

admiral  found  himself  wifeless  and  childless.  He  then 
turned  to  his  orphan  nephew,  and  soon  became  fonder 
of  him  than  he  had  ever  been  of  his  own  children. 
The  admiral,  though  in  easy  circumstances,  was  not 
wealthy;  nevertheless,  he  advanced  the  money  requisite 
for  George's  rise  in  the  army,  and  doubled  the  allow- 
ance bestowed  by  the  duke.  His  grace  heard  of  this 
generosity,  and  discovered  that  he  himself  had  a  very 
largo  family  growing  up;  that  the  marquis  was  going 
to  be  married,  and  required  an  increase  of  income;  that 
he  had  already  behaved  most  handsomely  to  his  nephew: 
and  the  result  of  this  discovery  was  that  the  duke  with- 
drew the  two  hundred  a  year.  Legard,  however,  who 
looked  on  his  uncle  as  an  exhaustless  mine,  went  on 
breaking  liearts  and  making  debts,  till  one  morning 
he  woke  in  the  Bench.  The  admiral  was  hastily  sum- 
moned to  London.  He  arrived,  paid  off  the  duns,  — 
a  kindness  which  seriously  embarrassed  him,  —  swore, 
scoldfd,   and    cried,    and    finally    insisted    that    Legard 

should  give  up  that  d d  coxcomb  regiment,  in  which 

he  was  now  captain,  retire  on  half-pay,  and  learn  econ- 
omy and  a  change  of  habits  on  the  Continent. 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  215 

The  admiral,  a  rough  but  good-natured  man  on  the 
whole,  had  two  or  three  little  peculiarities.  In  the  first 
place,  he  piqued  himself  on  a  sort  of  John  Bull  inde- 
pendence, was  a  bit  of  a  Radical  (a  strange  anomaly  in 
an  admiral),  —  which  was  owing,  perhaps,  to  two  or 
three  young  lords  having  been  put  over  his  head  in  the 
earlier  part  of  his  career,  — and  he  made  it  a  point  with 
his  nephew  (of  whose  affection  he  was  jealous)  to  break 
with  those  fine  grand  connections,  who  plunged  him  into 
a  sea  of  extravagance,  and  then  never  threw  him  a  rope 
to  save  him  from  drowning. 

In  the  second  place,  without  being  stingy,  the  admiral 
had  a  good  deal  of  economy  in  his  disposition.  He  was 
not  a  man  to  allow  his  nephew  to  ruin  him.  He  had 
an  extraordinary  old-fashioned  horror  of  gambling,  —  a 
polite  habit  of  George's;  and  he  declared  positively 
that  his  nephew  must,  while  a  bachelor,  learn  to  live 
upon  seven  hundred  a  year.  Thirdly,  the  admiral 
could  be  a  very  stern,  stubborn,  passionate  old  brute; 
and  when  he  coolly  told  George,  "  Harkye,  you  young 
puppy,  if  you  get  into  debt  again,  —  if  you  exceed  the 
very  handsome  allowance  I  make  you,  —  I  shall  just  cut 
you  off  with  a  shilling,"  George  was  fully  aware  that 
his  uncle  was  one  who  would  rigidly  keep  his  word. 

However,  it  was  something  to  be  out  of  debt,  and  one 
of  the  handsomest  men  of  his  age;  and  George  Legard, 
whose  rank  in  the  Guards  made  him  a  colonel  in  the  line, 
left  England  tolerably  contented  with  the  state  of 
affairs. 

Despite  the  foibles  of  his  youth,  George  Legard  had 
many  high  and  generous  qualities.  Society  had  done 
its  best  to  spoil  a  fine  and  candid  disposition,  with 
abilities  far  above  mediocrity ;  but  society  had  only 
partially  succeeded.     Still,  unhappily,  dissipation  had 


216  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

grown  a  habit  with  him ;  and  all  his  talents  were  of  a 
nature  that  brought  a  ready  return.  At  his  age,  it  was 
but  natural  that  the  praise  of  salons  should  retain  all 
its  sweetness. 

In  addition  to  those  qualities  which  please  the  softer 
sex,  Legard  was  a  good  whist-player,  superb  at  billiards, 
famous  as  a  shot,  unrivalled  as  a  horseman,  —  in  fact, 
an  accomplished  man,  "  who  did  everything  so  devilish 
well!"  These  accomplishments  did  not  stand  him  in 
much  stead  in  Italy;  and  though  with  reluctance  and 
remorse,  he  took  again  to  gambling,  —  he  really  had 
nothing  else  to  do. 

In  Venice  there  was,  one  year,  established  a  society 
somewhat  on  the  principle  of  the  Salon  at  Paris.  Some 
rich  "Venetians  belonged  to  it ;  but  it  was  chiefly  for  the 
convenience  of  foreigners,  — French,  English,  and  Aus- 
trians.  Here  there  was  select  gaming  in  one  room,  Avhile 
another  apartment  served  the  purposes  of  a  club.  Many 
■who  never  played  belonged  to  this  society ;  but  still  they 
were  not  the  habitues. 

Legard  played:  he  won  at  first,  then  he  lost,  then 
he  won  again  ;  it  was  a  pleasant  excitement.  One  night, 
after  winning  largely  at  roulette ,  he  sat  down  to  play 
ecarte  with  a  Frenchman  of  high  rank.  Legard  played 
well  at  this,  as  at  all  scientific  games:  he  thought  he 
should  make  a  fortune  out  of  the  Frenchman.  The 
game  excited  much  interest;  the  crowd  gathered  round 
the  table;  bets  ran  high;  the  vanity  of  Legard,  as  well 
as  his  interest,  was  implicated  in  the  conflict.  It  was 
soon  evident  that  the  Frenchman  played  as  well  as  the 
Englishman.  The  stakes,  at  first  tolerably  high,  were 
doubled.  Legard  bet  freely;  cards  went  against  him: 
he  lost  much,  lost  all  that  he  had,  lost  more  than  he  had, 
—  lost  several  hundreds,  which  he  promised  to  pay  the 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  217 

next  morning.  The  table  was  broken  up;  the  spec- 
tators separated.  Amongst  the  latter  had  been  one 
Englishman,  introduced  into  the  club  for  the  first  time 
that  night.  He  had  neither  played  nor  bet,  but  had 
observed  the  game  with  a  quiet  and  watchful  interest. 
This  Englishman  lodged  at  the  same  hotel  as  Legard. 
He  was  at  Venice  only  for  a  day ;  the  promised  sight  of 
a  file  of  English  newspapers  had  drawn  him  to  the  club; 
the  general  excitement  around  had  attracted  him  to  the 
table;  and  once  there,  the  spectacle  of  human  emotions 
exercised  its  customary  charm. 

On  ascending  the  stairs  that  conducted  to  his  apart- 
ment, the  Englishman  lieard  a  deep  groan  in  a  room  the 
door  of  which  was  ajar.  He  paused;  the  sound  was 
repeated.  He  gently  pushed  open  the  door,  and  saw 
Legard  seated  by  a  table,  while  a  glass  on  the  opposite 
wall  reflected  his  working  and  convulsed  countenance, 
with  his  hands  trembling  visibly,  as  they  took  a  brace 
of  pistols  from  the  case. 

The  Englishman  recognized  the  loser  at  the  club, 
and  at  once  divined  the  act  that  his  madness  or  his 
despair  dictated.  Legard  twice  took  up  one  of  the  pis- 
tols, and  twice  laid  it  down  irresolute;  the  third  time 
he  rose  with  a  start,  raised  the  weapon  to  his  head,  and 
the  next  moment  it  was  wrenched  from  his  grasp. 

"  Sit  down,  sir!  "  said  the  stranger,  in  a  loud  and 
commanding  voice. 

Legard,  astonished  and  abashed,  sank  once  more  into 
his  seat,  and  stared  sullenly  and  half  unconsciously  at 
his  countryman. 

"You  have  lost  your  money,"  said  the  Englishman, 
after  calmly  replacing  the  pistols  in  their  case,  which 
he  locked,  putting  the  key  into  his  pocket;  "and  that 
is  misfortune  enough  for  one  night.     If  you  had  won, 


218  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

and  ruined  your  opponent,  you  would  be  excessively 
happy,  and  go  to  bed  thinking  Good  Luck  (which  is 
the  representative  of  Providence)  watched  over  you. 
For  my  part,  I  think  you  ought  to  be  very  thankful 
that  you  are  not  the  winner." 

"  Sir,"  said  Legard,  recovering  from  his  surprise,  and 
beginning  to  feel  resentment,  "  I  do  not  understand  this 
intrusion  in  my  apartments.  You  have  saved  me,  it  is 
true,  from  death,  —  but  life  is  a  worse  curse." 

"  Young  man,  —  no!  moments  in  life  are  agony,  but 
life  itself  is  a  blessing.  Life  is  a  mystery  that  defies  all 
calculation.  You  can  never  say,  '  To-day  is  wretched, 
therefore  to-morrow  must  be  the  same!'  And  for  the 
loss  of  a  little  gold,  you,  in  the  full  vigor  of  youth, 
with  all  the  future  before  you,  will  dare  to  rush  into 
the  chances  of  eternity,  —  you,  who  have  never,  per- 
haps, thought  wliat  eternity  is!  Yet,"  added  the 
stranger,  in  a  soft  and  melancholy  voice,  "  you  are 
young  and  beautiful,  —  perhaps  the  pride  and  hope  of 
others!  Have  you  no  tie,  no  affection,  no  kindred? 
Are  you   lord  of  yourself  1  " 

Legard  was  moved  by  the  tone  of  the  stranger,  as  well 
as  by  the  words. 

"  It  is  not  the  loss  of  money,"  said  he,  gloomily,  "  it 
is  the  loss  of  honor.  To-morrow  I  must  go  forth  a 
shunned  and  despised  man,  —  I,  a  gentleman  and  a  sol- 
dier!    They  may  insult  me,  — and  I  have  no  reply!  " 

The  Englishman  seemed  to  muse;  for  his  brow  low- 
ered, and  he  made  no  answer.  Legard  tlirew  himself 
back,  overcome  with  his  own  excitement,  and  wept  like 
a  child.  The  stranger,  who  imagined  himself  above 
the  indulgence  of  emotion  (vain  man!),  woke  from  his 
reverie  at  this  burst  of  passion.  He  gazod  at  first  (I 
grieve  to  write)  with  a  curl  of  the  haughty  lip  that  had 


ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  219 

in  it  contempt;  but  it  passed  quickly  away,  and  the 
hard  man  remembered  that  he  too  had  been  young  and 
weak,  and  his  own  errors  greater,  perhaps,  than  those 
of  the  one  he  had  ventured  to  despise.  He  walked  to 
and  fro  the  room  still  without  speaking.  At  last  he 
approached  the  gamester,  and  took  his  hand. 

"  What  is  your  debt  ?  "  he  asked  gently. 

"  What  matters  it  1     More  than  I  can  pay. " 

"  If  life  is  a  trust,  so  is  wealth :  you  have  the  first  in 
charge  for  others;  I  may  have  the  last.  What  is  the 
debt?" 

Legard  started,  —  it  was  a  strong  struggle  between 
shame  and  hope.  "  If  I  could  borrow  it,  I  could  repay 
it  hereafter,  —  I  know  I  could.  I  would  not  think  of  it 
otherwise. " 

"Very  well,  so  be  it:  I  will  lend  you  the  money  on 
one  condition.  Solemnly  promise  me,  on  your  faith  as 
a  soldier  and  a  gentleman,  that  you  will  not  for  ten 
years  to  come, — even  if  you  grow  rich,  and  can  ruin 
others,  —  touch  card  or  dice-box.  Promise  me  that  you 
will  shun  all  gaming  for  gain,  under  whatever  disguise, 
—  whatever  appellation.  I  will  take  your  word  as  my 
bond." 

Legard,  overjo3''ed,  and  scarcely  trusting  his  senses, 
gave  the  promise. 

"  Sleep,  then,  to-night,  in  hope  and  assurance  of  the 
morrow,"  said  the  Englishman:  "let  this  event  be  an 
omen  to  you  that  while  there  is  a  future  there  is  no 
despair.  One  word  more:  I  do  not  want  your  thanks; 
it  is  easy  to  be  generous  at  the  expense  of  justice.  Per- 
haps I  have  been  so  now.  This  sum,  which  is  to  save 
your  life,  —  a  life  you  so  little  value,  —  might  have 
blessed  fifty  human  beings :  better  men  than  either  the 
giver  or  receiver.     What  is  given  to  error  may  perhaps 


220  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

be  a  wrong  to  virtue.  When  you  would  ask  others  to 
support  a  career  of  blind  and  selfish  extravagance,  pause 
and  think  over  the  breadless  lips  this  wasted  gold  would 
have  fed;  the  joyless  hearts  it  would  have  comforted! 
You  talk  of  repaying  me:  if  the  occasion  offer,  do  so; 
if  not,  —  if  we  never  meet  again,  and  you  have  it  in 
your  power,  —  pay  it  for  me  to  the  poor !  And  now 
farewell !  " 

"Stay;  give  me  the  name  of  my  preserver!  Mine 
is  —  " 

"  Hush !  what  matter  names  ?  This  is  a  sacrifice  we 
have  both  made  to  honor.  You  will  sooner  recover 
your  self-esteem  (and  without  self-esteem  there  is  neither 
faith  nor  honor)  when  you  think  that  your  family,  your 
connections,  are  spared  all  association  with  your  own 
error,  —  that  I  may  hear  them  spoken  of,  that  I  may 
mix  with  them,  without  fancying  that  they  owe  me 
gratitude." 

"Your  own  name,  then?"  said  Legard,  deeply  pene- 
trated with  the  delicate  generosity  of  his  benefactor, 

"Tush!"  muttered  the  stranger,  impatiently,  as  he 
closed  the  door. 

The  next  morning,  when  he  awoke,  Legard  saw  upon 
the  table  a  small  packet;  it  contained  a  sum  that  ex- 
ceeded the  debt  named.  On  the  envelope  was  written, 
"  Remember  the  bond. " 

The  stranger  liad  already  quitted  Venice.  He  had 
not  travelled  through  the  Italian  cities  under  his  own 
name,  for  he  had  just  returned  from  the  solitudes  of  the 
East,  and  not  yet  hardened  to  the  publicity  of  the  gossip 
which  in  towns  haunted  by  his  countrymen  attended  a 
Wfill-known  name:  that  given  to  Legard  by  the  inn- 
keeper, mutilated  by  Italian  pronunciation,  the  young 
man  had  never  heard  before,  and  soon  forgot.     He  paid 


ALICE;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  221 

his  debts,  and  he  scrupulously  kept  his  word.  The 
adventure  of  that  night  went  far,  indeed,  to  reform  and 
ennoble  the  mind  and  habits  of  George  Legard.  Time 
passed,  and  he  never  met  his  benefactor  till  in  the  halls 
of  Burleigh  he  recognized  the  stranger  in  Maltravers. 


222  ALICE;  OK,   THE  MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Why  value,  then,  that  strength  of  mind  they  boast, 
As  often  varying,  and  as  often  lost  ? 

Hawkins  Browne  {translated  by  Soame  Jentns). 

Maltr AVERS  was  lying  at  length,  with  his  dogs  around 
him,  under  a  beech-tree  that  threw  its  arms  over  one  of 
the  calm,  still  pieces  of  water  that  relieved  the  groves 
of  Burleigh,  when  Colonel  Legard  spied  him  from  the 
bridle-road,  which  led  through  the  park  to  the  house. 
The  colonel  dismounted,  threw  the  rein  over  his  arm; 
and  at  the  sound  of  the  lioofs  Maltravers  turned,  saw  the 
visitor,  and  rose;  he  held  out  his  hand  to  Legard,  and 
immediately  began  talking  of  indiiTerent  matters. 

Legard  was  embarrassed,  but  his  nature  was  not  one 
to  profit  by  the  silence  of  a  benefactor.  "  Mr.  Maltra- 
vers," said  he,  with  graceful  emotion,  "though  you 
have  not  yet  allowed  me  an  opportunity  to  allude  to 
it,  do  not  think  I  am  ungrateful  for  the  service  you 
rendered  me." 

Maltravers  looked  grave,  but  made  no  reply.  Legard 
resumed,  with  a  heightened  color,  — 

"  I  cannot  say  how  I  regret  that  it  is  not  yet  in  my 
power  to  discharge  my  debt;  but — " 

"  When  it  is,  you  will  do  so.  Pray  think  no  more  of 
it.     Are  you  going  to  the  Rectory  1  " 

"No,  not  this  morning,  in  fact,  I  leave  B shire 

to-morrow.     Pleasant  family,  the  Mertons. " 

"  And  Miss  Cameron  ?  " 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  223 

"  Is  certainly  beautiful,  —  and  very  rich.  How  could 
she  ever  think  of  marrying  Lord  Vargrave,  —  so  much 
older!  —  she  Avho  could  have  so  many  admirers  ?  " 

"Not,  surely,  while  betrothed  to  another?  " 

This  was  a  refinement  which  Legard,  though  an  hon- 
orable man  as  men  go,  did  not  quite  understand.  "  Oh," 
said  he,  "  that  was  by  some  eccentric  old  relation,  — her 
father-in-law,  I  think.  Do  you  think  she  is  bound  by 
such  an  engagement  1  " 

Maltravers  made  no  reply,  but  amused  himself  by 
throwing  a  stick  into  the  water,  and  sending  one  of  his 
dogs  after  it. 

Legard  looked  on;  and  his  affectionate  disposition 
yearned  to  make  advances  which  something  distant  in 
the  manner  of  Maltravers  chilled  and  repelled. 

When  Legard  was  gone,  Maltravers  followed  him 
with  his  eyes.  "  And  this  is  the  man  whom  Cleveland 
thinks  Evelyn  could  love!  I  could  forgive  her  marry- 
ing Vargrave.  Independently  of  the  conscientious  feel- 
ing that  may  belong  to  the  engagement,  Vargrave  has 
wit,  talent,  intellect;  and  this  man  has  nothing  but  the 
skin  of  the  panther.  Was  I  wrong  to  save  him  1  No. 
Every  human  life,  I  suppose,  has  its  uses.  But  Evelyn, 
—  I  could  despise  her,  if  her  heart  was  the  fool  of  the 
eye!" 

These  comments  were  most  unjust  to  Legard;  but 
they  were  just  of  that  kind  of  injustice  which  the  man 
of  talent  often  commits  against  the  man  of  external 
advantages,  and  which  the  latter  still  more  often  re- 
taliates on  the  man  of  talent.  As  Maltravers  thus 
soliloquized,  he  was  accosted  by  Mr.   Cleveland. 

"Come,  Ernest,  you  must  not  cut  these  unfortunate 
Mertons  any  longer.  If  you  continue  to  do  so,  do  you 
know  what  Mrs.  Hare  and  the  world  will  say?" 


224  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

"No;  what?" 

"  That  you  have  been  refused  by  Miss  Merton." 

"That  would  be  a  calumny!"  said  Ernest,  smiling. 

"  Or  that  you  are  hopelessly  in  love  with  Miss 
Cameron. " 

Maltravers  started;  his  proud  heart  swelled;  he 
pulled  his  hat  over  his  brows,  and  said,  after  a  short 
pause, — 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Hare  and  the  world  must  not  have  it  all 
their  own  way;  and  so  whenever  you  go  to  the  Rectory, 
take  me  with  you." 


ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  225 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  more  he  strove 
To  advance  his  suit,  the  farther  from  her  love. 

Drtden  :  Theodore  and  nonoria. 

The  line  of  conduct  which  Vargrave  now  adopted  with 
regard  to  Evelyn  was  craftily  conceived  and  carefully 
pursued.  He  did  not  hazard  a  single  syllable  which 
might  draw  on  him  a  rejection  of  his  claims;  but  at  the 
same  time,  no  lover  could  be  more  constant,  more  de- 
voted in  attentions.  In  the  presence  of  others  there 
was  an  air  of  familiar  intimacy,  that  seemed  to  arrogate 
a  right  which  to  her  he  scrupulously  shunned  to  assert. 
Nothing  could  be  more  respectful,  nay,  more  timid,  than 
his  language,  or  more  calmly  confident  than  his  manner. 
Not  having  much  vanity,  nor  any  very  acute  self-conceit, 
he  did  not  delude  himself  into  the  idea  of  winning 
Evelyn's  affections;  he  rather  sought  to  entangle  her 
judgment,  to  weave  around  her  web  upon  web,  —  not 
the  less  dangerous  for  being  invisible.  He  took  the  com- 
pact as  a  matter  of  course,  —  as  something  not  to  be 
broken  by  any  possible  chance.  Her  hand  was  to  be  his 
as  a  right;  it  was  her  heart  that  he  so  anxiously  sought 
to  gain.  But  this  distinction  was  so  delicately  drawn, 
and  insisted  upon  so  little  in  any  tangible  form,  that 
whatever  Evelyn's  wishes  for  an  understanding,  a  much 
more  experienced  woman  would  have  been  at  a  loss  to 
ripen  one. 

Evelyn    longed  to  confide   in  Caroline,  —  to    consult 
her.     But  Caroline,  though  still  kind,  had  grown  dis- 

15 


226  ALICE;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES. 

tant.  "I  wish,"  said  Evelyn,  one  night  as  she  sat  in 
Caroline's  dressing-room,  — "  I  wish  that  I  knew  what 
tone  to  take  with  Lord  Vargrave.  I  feel  more  and  more 
convinced  that  a  xuiion  between  us  is  impossible;  and 
yet,  precisely  because  he  does  not  press  it,  am  I  unable 
to  tell  him  so.  I  wish  you  could  imdertake  that  task; 
you  seem  such  friends  with  him." 

"  I!  "  said  Caroline,  changing  countenance. 

"  Yes,  you!  Xay,  do  not  blush,  or  I  shall  think  you 
envy  me.  Could  you  not  save  us  both  from  the  pain  that 
otherwise  must  come  sooner  or  later  ?  " 

"  Lord  Vargrave  would  not  thank  me  for  such  an  act  of 
friendship.  Besides,  Evelyn,  consider, — it  is  scarcely 
possible  to  break  off  this  engagement  noiv." 

"Now!  and  why  now?"  said  Evelyn,  astonished. 

"  The  world  believes  it  so  implicitly:  observe,  who- 
ever sits  next  you  rises  if  Lord  Vargrave  approaches; 
the  neighborhood  talk  of  nothing  else  but  your  marriage; 
and  your  fate,  Evelyn,  is  not  pitied." 

"  I  will  leave  this  place ;  I  will  go  back  to  the  cot- 
tage,—  I  cannot  bear  this!  "  said  Evelyn,  passionately, 
wringing  her  hands. 

"  You  do  not  love  another,  I  am  sure,  —  not  young  ]\[r. 
Hare,  with  his  green  coat  and  straw-colored  whiskers; 
nor  Sir  Henry  Foxglove,  with  his  how-d'ye-do  like  a 
view-halloo;  perhaps,  indeed.  Colonel  Legard, — he  is 
handsome.  What!  do  you  blush  at  his  name?  Xo; 
you  say  *  not  Legard. '     Who  else  is  there  ?  " 

"  You  are  cruel,  —  you  trifle  with  me!  "  said  Evelyn, 
in  tearful  reproach ;  and  she  rose  to  go  to  her  own 
room. 

"  My  dear  girl,"  said  Caroline,  touched  by  her  evi- 
dent pain,  "learn  from  me  —  if  I  may  say  so  —  that 
marriages  are  vot  made  in   heaven!     Yours  will  be  as 


ALICE  ;    OR,   THE    MYSTERIES.  227 

fortunate  as  earth  can  bestow.  A  love-match  is  usually 
the  least  happy  of  all.  Our  foolish  sex  demand  so  much 
in  love;  and  love,  after  all,  is  but  one  blessing  among 
many.  Wealth  and  rank  remain  when  love  is  but  a 
heap  of  ashes.  For  my  part,  I  have  chosen  my  destiny 
and  my  husband. " 

"  Your  husband!  " 

"Yes;  you  see  him  in  Lord  Doltimore.  I  daresay 
we  shall  be  as  happy  as  any  amorous  Corydon  and 
Phyllis."  But  there  was  irony  in  Caroline's  voice  as 
she  spoke;  and  she  sighed  heavily.  Evelyn  did  not 
believe  her  serious;  and  the  friends  parted  for  the 
night. 

"Mine  is  a  strange  fate!"  said  Caroline  to  herself: 
"I  am  asked  by  the  man  whom  I  love,  and  who  pro- 
fesses to  love  me,  to  bestow  myself  on  another,  and  to 
plead  for  him  to  a  younger  and  fairer  bride.  Well,  I 
will  obey  him  in  the  first;  the  last  is  a  bitterer  task, 
and  I  cannot  perform  it  earnestly.  Yet  Vargrave  has 
a  strange  power  over  me;  and  when  I  look  round  the 
world,  I  see  that  he  is  right.  In  these  most  common- 
place artifices,  there  is  yet  a  wild  majesty  that  charms 
and  fascinates  me.  It  is  something  to  rule  the  world; 
and  his  and  mine  are  natures  formed  to  do  so." 


228  ALICE;   OK,  THE   MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A  amoke  raised  with  the  fume  of  sighs. 

Romeo  and  Juliet 

It  is  certain  that  Evelyn  experienced  for  Maltravers 
sentiments  which,  if  not  love,  might  easily  be  mistaken 
for  it.  But  whether  it  were  that  master-passion,  or 
merely  its  fanciful  resemblance,  love  in  early  youth 
and  innocent  natures,  if  of  sudden  growth,  is  long  be- 
fore it  makes  itself  apparent.  Evelyn  had  been  prepared 
to  feel  an  interest  in  her  solitary  neighbor.  His  mind, 
as  developed  in  his  works,  had  half  formed  her  own. 
Her  childish  adventure  with  the  stranger  had  never 
been  forgotten.  Her  present  knowledge  of  Maltravers 
was  a  union  of  dangerous  and  often  opposite  associa- 
tions, —  the  ideal  and  the  real. 

Love,  in  its  first  dim  and  imperfect  shape,  is  but 
imagination  concentrated  oa  one  object.  It  is  a  genius 
of  the  heart  resembling  that  of  the  intellect;  it  appeals 
to,  it  stirs  up,  it  evokes  the  sentiments  and  sympathies 
that  lie  most  latent  in  our  nature.  Its  sigh  is  the  spirit 
that  moves  over  the  ocean,  and  arouses  the  Anadyomene 
into  life.  Therefore  is  it  that  mixd  produces  affections 
deeper  than  those  of  external  form;  therefore  it  is  that 
women  are  worshippers  of  glory,  which  is  the  palpable 
and  visible  representative  of  a  genius  whose  operations 
they  cannot  always  comprehend.  Genius  has  so  much 
in  common  witli  love, — the  imagination  that  animates 
one  is  so  much  the  property  of  the  other,  — that  there  is 


I 


alick;  or,  the  mysteries.  229 

not  a  surer  sign  of  the  existence  of  genius  than  the  love 
that  it  creates  and  bequeaths.  It  penetrates  deeper  than 
the  reason,  —  it  binds  a  nobler  captive  than  the  fancy. 
As  the  sun  upon  the  dial,  it  gives  to  the  human  heart 
both  its  shadow  and  its  light.  Nations  are  its  worship- 
pers and  wooers ;  and  posterity  learns  from  its  oracles  to 
dream,  to  aspire,   to  adore! 

Had  Maltravers  declared  the  passion  that  consumed 
him,  it  is  probable  that  it  would  soon  have  kindled 
a  return.  But  his  frequent  absence,  his  sustained  dis- 
tance of  manner,  had  served  to  repress  the  feelings  that 
in  a  young  and  virgin  heart  rarely  flow  with  much  force 
until  they  are  invited  and  aroused,  Le  besoin  d'aimer 
in  girls,  is,  perhaps,  in  itself  powerful;  but  it  is  fed  by 
another  want,  le  besoin  (V  etre  aiviee !  If,  therefore, 
Evelyn  at  present  felt  love  for  Maltravers,  the  love 
had  certainly  not  passed  into  the  core  of  life:  the  tree 
had  not  so  far  struck  its  roots  but  what  it  might  have 
borne  transplanting.  There  was  in  her  enough  of  the 
pride  of  sex  to  have  recoiled  from  the  thought  of  giving 
love  to  one  who  had  not  asked  the  treasure.  Capable 
of  attachment,  more  trustful,  and  therefore,  if  less 
vehement,  more  beautiful  and  durable  than  that  which 
had  animated  the  brief  tragedy  of  Florence  Lascelles, 
she  could  not  have  been  the  unknown  correspondent, 
or  revealed  the  soul,  because  the  features  wore  a  mask. 

It  must  also  be  allowed  that  in  some  respects  Evelyn 
was  too  young  and  inexperienced  thoroughly  to  appre- 
ciate all  that  was  most  truly  lovable  and  attractive  in 
Maltravers.  At  four  and  twenty  she  would,  perhaps, 
have  felt  no  fear  mingled  with  her  respect  for  him; 
but  seventeen  and  six  and  thirty  is  a  wide  interval! 
She  never  felt  that  there  was  that  difference  in  years 
until  she  had  met  Legard,  and  then  at  once  she  com- 


230  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

prehended  it.  With  Legard  she  had  moved  on  equal 
terms;  he  was  not  too  wise,  too  high,  for  her  every- 
day thoughts.  He  less  excited  her  imagination,  less 
attracted  her  reverence.  But,  somehow  or  other,  that 
voice  which  proclaimed  her  power,  those  eyes  which 
never  turned  from  hers,  went  nearer  to  her  heart.  As 
Evelyn  had  once  said  to  Caroline,  "  It  was  a  great 
enigma!"  —  her  own  feelings  were  a  mystery  to  her; 
and  she  reclined  by  the  "  Golden  Waterfalls  "  without 
tracing  her  likeness  in  the  glass  of  the  pool  below. 

]\Ialtravers  appeared  again  at  the  Kectory.  He  joined 
their  parties  by  day,  and  his  evenings  were  spent  with 
them  as  of  old.  In  this  I  know  not  precisely  what  were 
his  motives;  perhaps  he  did  not  know  them  himself. 
It  might  be  that  his  pride  was  roused ;  it  might  be  that 
he  could  not  endure  the  notion  that  Lord  Vargrave 
should  guess  his  secret,  by  an  absence  almost  otherwise 
unaccountable.  He  could  not  patiently  bear  to  give  Var- 
grave that  triumph;  it  might  be  that,  in  the  sternness 
of  his  self-esteem,  he  imagined  he  had  already  con- 
quered all  save  affectionate  interest  in  Evelyn's  fate, 
and  trusted  too  vainly  to  his  own  strength;  and  it 
might  be,  also,  that  he  could  not  resist  the  temptation 
of  seeing  if  Evelyn  were  contented  with  her  lot,  and  if 
Vargrave  were  worthy  of  the  blessing  that  awaited  him. 
Whether  one  of  these,  or  all  united,  made  him  resolve 
to  brave  his  danger,  — or  whether,  after  all,  he  yielded 
to  a  weakness,  or  consented  to  what,  invited  by  Evelyn 
herself,  was  almost  a  social  necessity,  — the  reader,  and 
not  the  narrator,  shall  decide. 

Legard  was  gone;  but  Doltimore  remained  in  the 
neigliborhood,  having  hired  a  hunting-box  not  far  from 
Sir  John  Merton's  manors,  over  which  he  easily  ob- 
tained  permission  to  sport.      When  he  did  not   dine 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  231 

elsewhere,  there  was  always  a  place  for  him  at  the 
parson's  hospitable  hoard, — and  that  place  was  gen- 
erally next  to  Caroline.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Merton  had 
given  up  all  hope  of  Mr.  Maltravers  for  their  eldest 
daughter;  and,  very  strangely,  this  conviction  came  upon 
their  minds  on  the  first  day  they  made  the  acquaintance 
of  the  young  lord. 

"  My  dear,"  said  the  rector,  as  he  was  winding  up  his 
watch,  preparatory  to  entering  the  connubial  couch, — 
"  my  dear,  I  don't  think  Mr.  Maltravers  is  a  marrying 
man." 

"I  was  just  going  to  make  the  same  remark,"  said 
Mrs.  Merton,  drawing  the  clothes  over  her.  "  Lord 
Doltimore  is  a  very  fine  young  man,  —  his  estates  un- 
encumbered. I  like  him  vastly,  my  love.  He  is  evi- 
dently smitten  with  Caroline:  so  Lord  Vargrave  and 
Mrs.  Hare  said." 

"  Sensible,  shrewd  woman,  Mrs.  Hare.  By  the  bye, 
we  '11  send  her  a  pineapple.  Caroline  was  made  to  be 
a  woman  of  rank !  " 

"  Quite;  so  much  self-possession!  " 

"  And  if  Mr.  Maltravers  would  sell  or  let  Burleigh  —  " 

"  It  Avould  be  so  pleasant. " 

"  Had  you  not  better  give  Caroline  a  hint  1  " 

"  My  loye,  she  is  so  sensible,  let  her  go  her  own  way. " 

"  You  are  right,  my  dear  Betsy ;  I  shall  always  say 
that  no  one  has  more  common-sense  than  you :  you  have 
brought  up  your  children  admirably !  " 

"Dear  Charles!" 

"  It  is  coldish  to-night,  love,"  said  the  rector;  and  he 
put  out  the  candle. 

From  that  time,  it  was  not  the  fault  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Merton  if  Lord  Doltimore  did  not  find  their  house  the 
pleasantest  in  the  county. 


232  ALICE  ;   OK,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

One  evening  the  Eectory  party  were  assembled  to- 
gether in  the  cheerful  drawing-room.  Cleveland,  Mr. 
Merton,  Sir  John,  and  Lord  Vargrave,  reluctantly  com- 
pelled to  make  up  the  fourth,  were  at  the  whist-table; 
Evelyn,  Caroline,  and  Lord  Doltimore,  were  seated 
round  the  fire;  and  Mrs.  Merton  was  working  a  foot- 
stool. The  fire  burned  clear,  the  curtains  were  down, 
the  children  in  bed :  it  was  a  family  picture  of  elegant 
comfort. 

Mr.  Maltravers  was  announced. 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  come  at  last,"  said  Caroline, 
holding  out  her  fair  hand.  "  Mr.  Cleveland  could  not 
answer  for  you.  We  are  all  disputing  as  to  which  mode 
of  life  is  the  happiest. " 

"  And  your  opinion?  "  asked  Maltravers,  seating  him- 
self in  the  vacant  chair,  —  it  chanced  to  be  next  to 
Evelyn's. 

"  My  opinion  is  decidedly  in  favor  of  London.  A 
metropolitan  life,  with  its  perpetual  and  graceful  ex- 
citements: the  best  music,  the  best  companions,  —  the 
best  things,  in  short.  Provincial  life  is  so  dull,  its 
pleasures  so  tiresome,  —  to  talk  over  the  last  year's  news, 
and  wear  out  one's  last  year's  dresses;  cultivate  a  con- 
servatory, and  play  Pope  Joan  with  a  young  party. 
Dreadful !  " 

"I  agree  with  Miss  Merton,"  said  Lord  Doltimore, 
solemnly;  "not  but  what  I  like  the  country  for  three  oi 
four  months  in  the  year,  with  good  shooting  and  hunt' 
ing,  and  a  large  house  properly  filled,  —  independent  of 
one's  own  neighborhood, — but  if  I  am  condemned  to 
choose  one  place  to  live  in,  give  me  Paris." 

"  Ah !  Paris ;  I  never  was  in  Paris.  I  should  so  like 
to  travel  I  "  said  Caroline. 

"But  the    inns  abroad  are  so  very  bad,"  said  Lord 


ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  233 

Doltimore;  "how  people  can  rave  about  Italy,  I  can't 
think.  I  never  suffered  so  much  in  my  life  as  I  did 
in  Calabria;  and  at  Venice  I  was  bit  to  death  by  mos- 
quitoes. Nothing  like  Paris,  I  assure  you.  Don't  you 
think  so,  Mr.   Maltravers?" 

"  Perhaps  I  shall  be  able  to  answer  you  better  in 
a  short  time.  I  think  of  accompanying  Mr.  Cleveland 
to  Paris." 

"Indeed!"  said  Caroline.  "  Well,  I  envy  you;  but 
it  is  a  sudden  resolution  ? " 

"Not  very." 

"  Do  you  stay  long  1  "  asked  Lord  Doltimore. 

"  My  stay  is  uncertain. " 

"  And  you  won't  let  Burleigh  in  the  mean  while  ?  " 

"  Let  Burleigh  ?  No ;  if  it  once  pass  from  my  hands, 
it  will  be  forever!  " 

Maltravers  spoke  gravely,  and  the  subject  was  changed. 
Lord  Doltimore  challenged  Caroline  to  chess. 

They  sat  down,  and  Lord  Doltimore  arranged  the 
pieces. 

"  Sensible  man,  Mr.  Maltravers,"  said  the  young  lord; 
"  but  I  don't  hit  it  off  with  him.  Vargrave  is  more  agree- 
able.    Don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

"Y-e-s." 

"  Lord  Vargrave  is  very  kind  to  me ;  I  never  remem- 
ber any  one  being  more  so:  got  Legard  that  appoint- 
ment solely  because  it  would  please  me,  —  very  friendly 
fellow!  I  mean  to  put  myself  imder  his  wing  next 
session!  " 

"  You  could  not  do  better,  I  'm  sure,"  said  Caroline; 
"  he  is  so  much  looked  up  to.  I  daresay  he  will  be 
prime  minister  one  of  these  days." 

"  I  take  the  bishop.  Do  you  think  so  really  ?  You 
are  rather  a  politician  ?  " 


234  ALICE  ;   OR,    THE    MYSTERIES. 

"  Oh,  no;  not  mxich  of  that.  Biit  my  father  and  my 
uncle  are  stanch  politicians;  gentlemen  know  so  much 
more  than  ladies.  We  should  always  go  by  their  opin- 
ions. I  think  I  Avill  take  the  queen's  pawn.  Your 
politics  are  the  same  as  Lord  Vargrave's?" 

"  Yes,  I  fancy  so :  at  least  I  shall  leave  my  proxy 
•with  him.      Glad  you  don't  like  politics,  — great  bore." 

"  Why,  so  young,  so  connected  as  you  are  —  "  Caro- 
line stopped  short,  and  made  a  wrong  move. 

"  I  wish  we  were  going  to  Paris  together,  we  should 
enjoy  it  so;"  and  Lord  Doltimore's  knight  checked 
the  tower  and  queen. 

Caroline  coughed,  and  stretched  her  hand  quickly  to 
move. 

"  Pardon  me,  you  will  lose  the  game  if  you  do  so!  " 
and  Doltimore  placed  his  hand  on  hers;  their  eyes  met, 
—  Caroline  turned  away,  and  Lord  Doltimore  settled 
his  right  collar. 

"  And  is  it  true  ?  are  you  really  going  to  leave  us  1  " 
said  Evelyn;  and  she  felt  very  sad.  But  still  the 
sadness  might  not  be  that  of  love ;  she  had  felt  sad  after 
Legard  had  gone. 

"  I  do  not  think  I  shall  long  stay  away,"  said  Mal- 
travers,  trying  to  speak  indifferently.  "  Burleigh  has 
become  more  dear  to  me  than  it  was  in  earlier  youth ; 
perhaps  because  I  have  made  myself  duties  there,  and 
in  other  places,  I  am  but  an  isolated  and  useless  unit  in 
the  great  mass." 

"  You !  —  everywhere  you  must  have  occupations  and 
resources;  everywhere  you  must  find  yourself  not  alone. 
But  you  will  not  go  yet  1  " 

"  Xot  yet;  no.  *  (Evelyn's  spirits  rose.)  "  Have  you 
read  the  book  I  sent  you? "    (It  was  one  of  De  Stael's.) 


ALICE;    OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  235 

•'  Yes;  but  it  disappoints  me." 

"  And  why  ?  it  is  eloquent." 

"  But  is  it  true  ?  Is  there  so  much  melancholy  in  life  ? 
are  the  affections  so  full  of  bitterness?  For  me,  I  am  so 
happy  when  with  those  I  love.  When  I  am  with  my 
mother,  the  air  seems  more  fragrant,  the  skies  more 
blue;  it  is  surely  not  affection,  but  the  absence  of  it, 
that  makes  us  melancholy !  " 

"  Perhaps  so ;  but  if  we  had  never  known  affection, 
we  might  not  miss  it;  and  the  brilliant  Frenchwoman 
speaks  from  memory,  while  you  speak  from  hope, — 
memory,  which  is  the  ghost  of  joy;  yet  surely,  even  in 
the  indulgence  of  affection,  there  is  at  times  a  certain 
melancholy,  a  certain  fear.  Have  you  never  felt  it, 
even  with  —  with  your  mother  1  " 

"  Ah,  yes!  when  she  suffered,  or  when  I  have  thought 
she  loved  me  less  than  I  desired." 

"  That  must  have  been  an  idle  and  vain  thought. 
Your  mother !  does  she  resemble  you  ?  " 

"  I  wish  I  could  think  so.  Oh,  if  you  knew  her!  I 
have  longed  so  often  that  you  were  acquainted  with 
each  other!  It  was  she  who  taught  me  to  sing  your 
songs. " 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Hare,  we  may  as  well  throw  up  our 
cards,"  said  the  keen,  clear  voice  of  Lord  Vargrave; 
"you  have  played  most  admirably,  and  I  know  that 
your  last  card  will  be  the  ace  of  trumps;  still  the  luck 
is  against  us." 

"  No,  no;  pray  play  it  out,  my  lord." 

"Quite  useless,  ma'am,"  said  Sir  John,  showing  two 
honors.     "We  have  only  the  trick  to  make." 

"Quite  useless,"  echoed  Lumley,  tossing  down  his 
sovereigns,  and  rising  with  a  careless  yawn. 

"  How  d  'ye  do,  Maltravers?  " 


2S6  ALICE  ;    OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

jNIaltravers  rose;  and  Vargrave  turned  to  Evelyn,  and 
addressed  her  in  a  whisper.  The  proud  Maltravers 
walked  away,  and  suppressed  a  sigh;  a  moment  more, 
and  he  saw  Lord  Vargrave  occupying  the  chair  he 
had  left  vacant.  He  laid  his  hand  on  Cleveland's 
shoulder. 

"  The  carriage  is  waiting.     Are  you  ready  1 " 


ALICE;  OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  237 

CHAPTER  X. 

Obscuris  vera  involvens.^  —  Virgil. 

A  DAY  or  two  after  the  date  of  the  last  chapter,  Evelyn 
and  Caroline  were  riding  out  with  Lord  Vargrave  and 
Mr.  Morton,  and  on  returning  home  they  passed  through 
the  village  of  Burleigh. 

"  Maltravers,  I  suppose,  has  an  eye  to  the  county,  one 
of  these  days,"  said  Lord  Vargrave,  who  honestly  fan- 
cied that  a  man's  eyes  were  always  directed  towards 
something  for  his  own  interest  or  advancement ;  "  other- 
wise he  could  not  surely  take  all  this  trouble  about 
workhouses  and  paupers.  Who  could  ever  have  im- 
agined my  romantic  friend  Avould  sink  into  a  country 
squire?  " 

"  It  is  astonishing  what  talent  and  energy  he  throws 
into  everything  he  attempts,"  said  the  parson.  "One 
could  not,  indeed,  have  supposed  that  a  man  of  genius 
could  make  a  man  of  business." 

"Flattering  to  your  humble  servant,  —  whom  all  the 
world  allow  to  be  the  last,  and  deny  to  be  the  first. 
But  your  remark  shows  what  a  sad  possession  genius 
is:  like  the  rest  of  the  world,  you  fancy  that  it  cannot 
be  of  the  least  possible  use.  If  a  man  is  called  a  genius, 
it  means  that  he  is  to  be  thrust  out  of  all  the  good 
things  in  this  life.  He  is  not  fit  for  anything  but  a 
garret!  Put  a  genius  into  office;  make  a  genius  a 
bishop,  or  a  lord  chancellor! — the  Avorld  would  be 
turned  topsy-turvy.  You  see  that  you  are  quite  aston- 
1  Wrapping  truth  in  obscurity. 


238  ALICE  ;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES. 

ished  that  a  genius  can  be  even  a  county  magistrate, 
and  know  the  difference  between  a  spade  and  a  poker. 
In  fact,  a  genius  is  supposed  to  be  the  most  ignorant, 
impracticable,  good-for-nothing,  do-nothing  sort  of  thing 
that  ever  walked  upon  two  legs.  Well,  when  I  began 
life,  I  took  excellent  care  that  nobody  should  take  me 
for  a  genius;  and  it  is  only  within  the  last  year  or  two 
that  I  have  ventured  to  emerge  a  little  out  of  my  shell. 
I  have  not  been  the  better  for  it ;  I  was  getting  on  faster 
while  I  was  merely  a  plodder.  The  world  is  so  fond  of 
that  droll  fable,  the  hare  and  the  tortoise,  —  it  really 
believes,  because  (I  suppose  the  fable  to  be  true!)  a 
tortoise  once  beat  a  hare,  that  all  tortoises  are  much 
better  runners  than  hares  possibly  can  be.  Mediocre 
men  have  the  monopoly  of  the  loaves  and  fishes;  and 
even  when  talent  does  rise  in  life,  it  is  a  talent  which 
only  diffe'rs  from  mediocrity  by  being  more  energetic 
and  bustling." 

"You  are  bitter,  Lord  Vargrave,"  said  Caroline, 
laughing;  "yet  surely  you  have  had  no  reason  to  com- 
plain of  the  non-appreciation  of  talent?" 

"  Humph!  if  I  had  had  a  grain  more  talent,  T  should 
have  been  crushed  by  it.  There  is  a  subtle  allegory  in 
the  story  of  the  lean  poet,  who  put  lead  in  his  pocket 
to  prevent  being  blown  away!  Mais  a  nos  moutons, — 
to  return  to  Maltravers.  Let  us  suppose  that  he  was 
merely  clever,  had  not  had  a  particle  of  what  is  called 
genius,  been  merely  a  hard-working  able  gentleman  of 
good  character  and  fortune,  — he  might  be  halfway  up 
the  hill  by  this  time;  whereas  now  what  is  he?  Less 
l^fore  the  public  than  he  was  at  twenty-eight, — a  dis- 
contented anchorite,  a  meditative  idler." 

"No,  not  that,"  said  Evelyn,  warmly,  and  then 
checked  herself. 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  239 

Lord  Vargrave  looked  at  her  sharply ;  but  his  knowl- 
edge of  life  told  him  tliat  Legard  was  a  much  more 
dangerous  rival  than  jNIaltravers.  Now  and  then,  it  is 
true,  a  suspicion  to  the  contrary  crossed  him;  but  it  did 
not  take  root  and  become  a  serious  apprehension.  Still, 
he  did  not  quite  like  the  tone  of  voice  in  which  Evelyn 
had  put  her  abrupt  negative,  and  said,  with  a  slight 
sneer, — 

"  If  not  that,  what  is  he  1  " 

"  One  who  purchased,  by  the  noblest  exertions,  the 
right  to  be  idle,"  said  Evelyn,  with  spirit,  "  and  whom 
genius  itself  will  not  suffer  to  be  idle  long." 

"Besides,"  said  Mr.  Merton,  "he  has  won  a  high 
reputation,  which  he  cannot  lose  merely  by  not  seeking 
to  increase  it." 

"Reputation!  Oh,  yes!  we  give  men  like  that  — 
men  of  genius  —  a  large  property  in  the  clouds,  in  order 
to  justify  ourselves  in  pushing  them  out  of  our  way 
below.  But  if  they  are  contented  with  fame,  why,  they 
deserve  their  fate.      Hang  fame;  give  me  power." 

"  And  is  there  no  power  in  genius,"  said  Evelyn, 
with  deepening  fervor,  — "  no  power  over  the  mind  and 
the  heart  and  the  thought;  no  power  over  its  own  time, 
over  posterity,  over  nations  yet  uncivilized,  races  yet 
unborn  1  " 

This  burst  from  one  so  simple  and  young  as  Evelyn 
seemed  to  Vargrave  so  surprising  that  he  stared  on  her 
without  saying  a  word. 

"You  will  laugh  at  my  championship,"  she  added, 
with  a  blush  and  a  smile ;  "  but  you  provoked  the 
encounter." 

"And  you  have  won  the  battle,"  said  Vargrave,  with 
prompt  gallantry.  "  iMy  charming  ward,  every  day 
develops  in  you  some  new  gift  of  nature." 


2-10  ALICE;   OK,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

Caroline,  with  a  movement  of  impatience,  put  her 
horse  into  a  canter. 

Just  at  this  time,  from  a  cross-road  emerged  a  horse- 
man,—  it  was  Maltravers.  The  party  halted;  saluta- 
tions were  exchanged. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  been  enjoying  the  sweet  business 
of  squiredom,"  said  Vargrave,  gayly:  "  Atticus  and  his 
farm,  —  classical  associations!  Charming  weather  for 
the  agriculturists,  eh?  What  news  about  corn  and 
barley  1  I  suppose  our  English  habit  of  talking  on 
the  weather  arose  when  we  were  all  a  squirearchal, 
farming,  George  III.  kind  of  people!  Weather  is 
really  a  serious  matter  to  gentlemen  who  are  interested 
in  beans  and  vetches,  wheat  and  hay.  You  hang  your 
happiness  upon  the  changes  of  the  moon !  " 

"  As  you  upon  the  smiles  of  a  minister.  The  weather 
of  a  court  is  more  capricious  than  that  of  the  skies ;  at 
least  we  are  better  husbandmen  than  you  who  sow  the 
wind  and  reap  the  whirlwind." 

"  Well  retorted;  and  really,  when  I  look  round,  I  am 
half  inclined  to  envy  you.  Were  I  not  Vargrave,  I 
would  be  Maltravers." 

It  was,  indeed,  a  scene  that  seemed  quiet  and  serene, 
with  the  English  union  of  the  feudal  and  the  pastoral 
life:  the  village-green,  with  its  trim  scattered  cottages; 
the  fields  and  pastures  that  spread  beyond;  the  turf  of 
the  park  beliind,  broken  by  the  shadows  of  the  unequal 
grounds,  with  its  mounds  and  hollows  and  venerable 
groves,  from  which  rose  the  turrets  of  the  old  hall, 
its  mullion  windows  gleaming  in  the  western  sun,  —  a 
scene  that  preached  tranquillity  and  content,  and  might 
have  been  equally  grateful  to  humble  philosophy  and 
hereditary  pride. 

"  I  never  saw  any  place  so  peculiar  in  its  character  as 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  241 

Burleigh,"  said  the  rector;  "  the  old  seats  left  to  us  in 
England  are  chiefly  those  of  our  great  nobles.  It  is  so 
rare  to  see  one  that  does  not  aspire  beyond  the  residence 
of  a  private  gentleman  preserve  all  the  relics  of  the 
Tudor  age." 

"  I  think,"  said  Vargrave,  turning  to  Evelyn,  "  that 
as  by  my  uncle's  will  your  fortune  is  to  be  laid  out  in 
the  purchase  of  land,  we  could  not  find  a  better  invest- 
ment than  Burleigh.  So  whenever  you  are  inclined  to 
sell,  Maltravers,  I  think  we  must  outbid  Doltimore. 
What  say  you,  my  fair  ward?" 

"  Leave  Burleigh  in  peace,  I  beseech  you! "  said 
Maltravers,  angrily. 

"  That  is  said  like  a  Digby,"  returned  Vargrave. 
"  Allans  !  will   you  not  come  home  with  us  ?  " 

"  I  thank  you,  —  not  to-day. " 

"  We  meet  at  Lord  Raby's  next  Thursday.  It  is  a 
ball  given  almost  wholly  in  honor  of  your  return  to 
Burleigh;  we  are  all  going,  —  it  is  my  young  cousin's 
debut  at  Knaresdean.  We  have  all  an  interest  in  her 
conquests. " 

Now,  as  Maltravers  looked  up  to  answer,  he  caught 
Evelyn's  glance,  and  his  voice  faltered. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "we  shall  meet, — once  again. 
Adieu!"  He  wheeled  round  his  horse,  and  they 
separated. 

"I  can  bear  this  no  more,"  said  Maltravers  to  him- 
self; "  I  overrated  my  strength.  To  see  her  thus  day 
after  day,  and  to  know  her  another's;  to  writhe  beneath 
his  calm,  unconscious  assertion  of  his  rights.  Happy 
Vargrave! — and  yet,  ah,  will  she  be  happy?  Oh, 
could  I  think  so ! " 

Thus  soliloquizing,  he  suffered  the  rein  to  fall  on  the 
neck  of  his  horse,  which  paced  slowly  home  through  the 

16 


242  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

village,  till  it  stopped,  as  if  in  the  mechanism  of  cus- 
tom, at  the  door  of  a  cottage  a  stone's  throw  from  the 
lodge.  At  this  door,  indeed,  for  several  successive  days, 
had  Maltravers  stopped  regularly ;  it  was  now  tenanted 
by  the  poor  woman ,  his  introduction  to  whom  has  been 
before  narrated.  She  had  recovered  from  the  immediate 
effects  of  the  injury  she  had  sustained;  but  her  consti- 
tution, greatly  broken  by  previous  suffering  and  ex- 
haustion, had  received  a  mortal  shock.  She  was  hurt 
inwardly ;  and  the  surgeon  informed  ]V[altravers  that  she 
had  not  many  months  to  live.  He  had  placed  her  under 
the  roof  of  one  of  his  favorite  cottagers,  where  she  re- 
ceived all  the  assistance  and  alleviation  that  careful 
nursing  and  medical  advice  could  give  her. 

This  poor  woman,  whose  name  was  Sarah  Elton, 
interested  Maltravers  much;  she  had  known  better 
days;  there  was  a  certain  propriety  in  her  expressions 
which  denoted  an  education  superior  to  her  circum- 
stances; and  what  touched  Maltravers  most,  she  seemed 
far  more  to  feel  her  husband's  death  than  her  own  suf- 
ferings, which,  somehow  or  other,  is  not  common  with 
widows  the  other  side  of  forty.  We  say  that  youth 
easily  consoles  itself  for  the  robberies  of  the  grave; 
middle  age  is  a  still  better  self-comforter.  When  Mrs. 
Elton  found  herself  installed  in  the  cottage,  she  looked 
round,  and  burst  into  tears. 

"And  William  is  not  here!"  she  said.  "Friends, 
friends!  if  we  had  had  but  one  such  friend  before  he 
died!" 

Maltravers  was  pleased  that  her  first  thought  was 
rather  that  of  sorrow  for  the  dead  than  of  gratitude  for 
the  living.  Yet  Mrs.  Elton  was  grateful,  —  simply, 
honestly,  deeply  grateful;  her  manner,  her  voice,  be- 
tokened it.     And  she  seemed  so  glad  when  her  bene- 


ALICE  ;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  243 

factor  called  to  speak  kindly,  and  inquire  cordially,  that 
Maltravers  did  so  constantly,  at  first  from  a  compas- 
sionate, and  at  last  from  a  selfish  motive,  — for  who  is 
not  pleased  to  give  pleasure?  And  Maltravers  had  so 
few  in  the  world  to  care  for  him  that  perhaps  he  was 
flattered  by  the  grateful  respect  of  this  humhle  stranger. 

When  his  horse  stopped,  the  cottager's  daughter 
opened  the  door  and  courtesied,  —  it  was  an  invitation 
to  enter;  and  he  threw  his  rein  over  the  paling  and 
walked  into  the  cottage. 

Mrs.  Elton,  who  had  been  seated  by  the  open  case- 
ment, rose  to  receive  him.  But  Maltravers  made  her 
sit  down,  and  soon  put  her  at  her  ease.  The  woman 
and  her  daughter  who  occupied  the  cottage  retired  into 
the  garden;  and  Mrs.  Elton,  watching  them  withdraw, 
then  exclaimed  abruptly, — 

"  Oh,  sir!  I  have  so  longed  to  see  you  this  morning. 
I  so  long  to  make  bold  to  ask  you  whether,  indeed,  I 
dreamed  it,  or  did  I,  when  you  first  took  me  to  your 
house,  —  did  I  see  —  "  She  stopped  abruptly;  and 
though  she  strove  to  suppress  her  emotion,  it  was  too 
strong  for  her  efforts,  — she  sank  back  on  her  chair,  pale 
as  death,  and  almost  gasped  for  breath. 

Maltravers  waited  in  surprise  for  her  recovery. 

"I  beg  pardon,  sir;  I  was  thinking  of  days  long 
past,  and  —  but  I  wished  to  ask  whether,  when  I  lay  in 
your  hall,  almost  insensible,  any  one  besides  yourself 
and  your  servants  were  present?  Or  Avas  it,"  added  the 
woman,  with  a  shudder, —  "  was  it  the  dead?  " 

"I  remember,"  said  Maltravers,  much  struck  and 
interested  in  her  question  and  manner,  "  that  a  lady  was 
present. " 

"  It  is  so,  —  it  is  so!  "  cried  the  woman,  half  rising 
and   clasping    her   hands.       "  And    she    passed  by  this 


244  ALICE;   OR,    THE   MYSTERIES. 

cottage  a  little  time  ago;  her  veil  was  thrown  aside  as 
she  turned  that  fair  young  face  towards  the  cottage. 
Her  name,  sir, — oh,  what  is  her  name?  It  was  the 
same  —  the  same  face  that  shone  across  me  in  that  hour 
of  pain!     I  did  not  dream!     I  was  not  mad!  " 

"Compose  yourself;  you  could  never,  I  think,  have 
seen  that  lady  before.     Her  name  is  Cameron. " 

"Cameron,  Cameron!"  the  woman  shook  her  head 
mournfully.  "No;  that  name  is  strange  to  me.  And 
her  mother,  sir,  —  she  is  dead?  " 

"  Kg  ;  her  mother  lives. " 

A  shade  came  over  the  face  of  the  sufferer;  and  she 
said,  after  a  pause,  — 

"My  eyes  deceive  me  then,  sir;  and,  indeed,  I  feel 
that  my  head  is  touched,  and  I  wander  sometimes. 
But  the  likeness  was  so  great;  yet  that  young  lady  ia 
even  lovelier!  " 

"  Likenesses  are  very  deceitful,  and  very  capricious, 
and  depend  more  on  fancy  than  reality.  One  person 
discovers  a  likeness  between  faces  most  dissimilar, 
a  likeness  invisible  to  others.  But  whom  does  Miss 
Cameron  resemble  ?  " 

"  One  now  dead,  sir;  dead  many  years  ago.  But  it  is 
a  long  story,  and  one  that  lies  heavy  on  my  conscience. 
Some  day  or  other,  if  you  will  give  me  leave,  sir,  I  will 
unburden  myself  to  you." 

"  If  I  can  assist  you  in  any  way,  command  me.  Mean- 
while, have  you  no  friends,  no  relations,  no  children, 
whom  you  would  wish  to  see?  " 

"  Children !  —  no,  sir ;  I  never  had  but  one  child  of  my 
own"  (she  laid  an  emphasis  on  the  last  words),  "  and 
that  died  in  a  foreign  land!  " 

"  And  no  other  relatives?  " 

"None,  sir.     My    history   is  very  short  and  simple. 


ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  245 

I  was  well  brought  up,  —  an  only  child.  My  father 
was  a  small  farmer;  he  died  when  I  was  sixteen,  and  I 
went  into  service  with  a  kind  old  lady  and  her  daugh- 
ter, who  treated  me  more  as  a  companion  than  a  servant. 
I  was  a  vain,  giddy  girl,  then,  sir.  A  young  man,  the 
son  of  a  neighboring  farmer,  courted  me,  and  I  was 
much  attached  to  him;  but  neither  of  us  had  money,  and 
his  parents  would  not  give  their  consent  to  our  marry- 
ing. I  was  silly  enough  to  think  that  if  William  loved 
me,  he  should  have  braved  all;  and  his  prudence  mor- 
tified me,  so  I  married  another  whom  I  did  not  love. 
I  was  rightly  punished,  for  he  ill-used  me  and  took  to 
drinking;  I  returned  to  my  old  service  to  escape  from 
him,  —  for  I  was  with  child,  and  my  life  was  in  danger 
from  his  violence.  He  died  suddenly,  and  in  debt. 
And  then,  afterwards,  a  gentleman  —  a  rich  gentleman 
—  to  whom  I  rendered  a  service  (do  not  misunderstand 
me,  sir,  if  I  say  the  service  was  one  of  which  I  repent) 
gave  me  money,  and  made  me  rich  enough  to  marry  my 
fiirst  lover;  and  William  and  I  went  to  America.  We 
lived  many  years  in  Xew  York  upon  our  little  fortune 
comfortably;  and  I  was  a  long  while  happy,  for  I  had 
always  loved  William  dearly.  My  first  affliction  was 
the  death  of  my  child  by  my  first  husband;  but  I  was 
soon  roused  from  my  grief.  William  schemed  and  spec- 
ulated, as  everybody  does  in  America,  and  so  we  lost 
all ;  and  William  was  Aveakly  and  could  not  work.  At 
length  he  got  the  place  of  steward  on  board  a  vessel 
from  New  York  to  Liverpool,  and  I  was  taken  to  as- 
sist in  the  cabin.  We  wanted  to  come  to  London:  I 
thought  my  old  benefactor  might  do  something  for 
us,  though  he  had  never  answered  the  letters  I  sent  him. 
But  poor  William  fell  ill  on  board,  and  died  in  sight 
of  land." 


246  ALICE  ;    OR,   THE    MYSTERIES. 

Mrs.  Elton  wept  bitterly,  but  with  the  subdued  grief 
of  one  to  whom  tears  have  been  familiar;  and  when 
she  recovered,  she  soon  brought  her  humble  tale  to  an 
end.  She  herself,  incapacitated  from  all  work  by  sor- 
row and  a  breaking  constitution,  was  left  in  the  streets  of 
Liverpool  without  other  means  of  subsistence  than  the 
charitable  contributions  of  the  passengers  and  sailors  on 
board  the  vessel.  With  this  sum  she  had  gone  to  Lon- 
don, where  she  found  her  old  patron  had  been  long  since 
dead,  and  she  had  no  claims  on  his  family.  She  had, 
on  quitting  England,  left  one  relation  settled  in  a  town 
in  the  North;  thither  she  now  repaired,  to  find  her  last 
hope  wrecked:  the  relation  also  was  dead  and  gone. 
Her  money  was  now  spent,  and  she  had  begged  her  way 
along  the  road,  or  through  the  lanes,  she  scarce  knew 
whither,  till  the  accident,  which,  in  shortening  her  life, 
had  raised  up  a  friend  for  its  close. 

"And  such,  sir,"  said  she,  in  conclusion,  —  "suck 
has  been  the  story  of  my  life,  except  one  part  of  it, 
which,  if  I  get  stronger,  I  can  tell  better;  but  you  will 
excuse  that  now. " 

"  And  are  you  comfortable  and  contented,  my  poor 
friend  ?     These  people  are  kind  to  you  1  " 

"  Oh,  so  kind!  and  every  night  we  all  pray  for  you, 
sir;  you  ought  to  be  happy,  if  the  blessings  of  the  poor 
can  avail  the  rich," 

Maltravers  remounted  his  horse,  and  sought  his  home; 
and  his  heart  was  lighter  than  before  he  entered  that 
cottage.  But  at  evening  Cleveland  talked  of  Vargrave 
and  Evelyn,  and  the  good  fortune  of  the  one,  and  the 
charms  of  the  other;  and  the  wound,  so  well  concealed, 
bled  afresh. 

"I  heard  from  De  Montaigne  the  other  day,"  said 
Ernest,  just  as  they  were  retiring  for  the  night,  "  and 


ALICE  ;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES.  247 

his  letter  decides  my  movements.  If  you  will  accept 
me,  then,  as  a  travelling  companion,  I  will  go  with  you 
to  Paris.  Have  you  made  up  your  mind  to  leave  Bur- 
leigh on  Saturday  1  " 

"  Yes ;  that  gives  us  a  day  to  recover  from  Lord  Rahy's 
ball.  I  am  so  delighted  at  your  offer!  we  need  only 
stay  a  day  or  so  in  town.  The  excursion  will  do  you 
good,  —  your  spirits,  my  dear  Ernest,  seem  more  de- 
jected than  when  you  first  returned  to  England.  You 
live  too  much  alone  here;  you  will  enjoy  Burleigh 
more  on  your  return.  And  perhaps  then  you  will  open 
the  old  house  a  little  more  to  the  neighborhood,  and  to 
your  friends.  They  expect  it;  you  are  looked  to  for  the 
county. " 

"  I  have  done  with  politics,  and  sicken  but  for 
peace. " 

"  Pick  up  a  wife  in  Paris,  and  you  will  then  know 
that  peace  is  an  impossible  possession,"  said  the  old 
bachelor,  laughing. 


BOOK  V. 


Hes.  :  Op.  et  Dies,  40. 

Fools  blind  to  truth  ;  nor  know  their  erring  soul 
How  much  the  half  is  better  than  the  whole. 


BOOK   V. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Do  as  the  Heavens  have  done  :  forget  your  evil ; 
With  them,  forgive  yourself. 

The  Winter's  Tale. 

The  sweet'st  companion  that  e'er  man 
Bred  his  hopes  out  of. 

Ibid. 

The  curate  of  Brook-Green  was  sitting  outside  his  door. 
The  vicarage  which  he  inhabited  was  a  straggling,  irreg- 
ular, but  picturesque  building,  humble  enough  to  suit 
the  means  of  the  curate,  yet  large  enough  to  accommo- 
date the  vicar.  It  had  been  built  in  an  age  when  the 
mdigentes  et  pauperes,  for  whom  luiiversities  were 
founded,  supplied  more  than  they  do  now  the  fountains 
of  the  Christian  ministry ,  —  when  pastor  and  flock  Avere 
more  on  an  .equality. 

From  under  a  rude  and  arched  porch,  with  an  oaken 
settle  on  either  side  for  the  poor  visitor,  the  door  opened 
at  once  upon  the  old-fashioned  parlor,  —  a  homely  but 
pleasant  room,  with  one  wide  but  low  cottage  casement, 
beneath  which  stood  the  dark  shining  table,  that  sup- 
ported the  large  Bible  in  its  green  baize  cover,  the  Con- 
cordance, and  the  last  Sunday's  sermon  in  its  jetty  case. 
There  by  the  fireplace  stood  the  bachelor's  round  elbow- 
chair,  with  a  needlework  cushion  at  the  back;  a  walnut- 
tree  bureau;   another  table  or  two;  half  a  dozen  plain 


252  ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

chairs  constituted  the  rest  of  the  furniture,  saving  some 
two  or  three  hundred  volumes,  ranged  in  neat  shelves  on 
the  clean  wainscoted  walls.  There  was  another  room, 
to  which  you  ascended  by  two  steps,  communicating 
with  this  parlor,  smaller,  but  finer,  and  inhabited  only 
on  festive  days,  when  Lady  Vargrave  or  some  other 
quiet  neighbor  came  to  drink  tea  with  the  good  curate. 

An  old  housekeeper  and  her  grandson  —  a  young  fel- 
low of  about  two  and  twenty,  who  tended  the  garden, 
milked  the  cow,  and  did  in  fact  what  he  was  wanted  to 
do  —  composed  the  establishment  of  the  humble  minister. 

We  have  digressed  from  Mr.  Aubrey  himself. 

The  curate  was  seated,  then,  one  fine  summer  morning, 
on  a  bench  at  the  left  of  his  porch,  screened  from  the 
sun  by  the  cool  boughs  of  a  chestnut-tree ,  the  shadow  of 
which  half  covered  the  little  lawn  that  separated  the 
precincts  of  the  house  from  those  of  silent  death  and 
everlasting  hope;  above  the  irregular  and  moss-grown 
paling  rose  the  village  church;  and  through  openings 
in  the  trees,  beyond  the  burial-ground,  partially  gleamed 
the  white  walls  of  Lady  Vargrave 's  cottage,  and  were 
seen  at  a  distance  the  sails  on  the 

"  Mighty  waters,  rolling  evermore." 

The  old  man  was  calmly  enjoying  the  beauty  of  the 
morning,  the  freshness  of  the  air,  the  warmth  of  the 
dancing  beam,  and  not  least,  perhaps,  his  own  peaceful 
thoughts,  —  the  spontaneous  children  of  a  contemplative 
spirit  and  a  quiet  conscience.  His  was  the  age  when  we 
most  sensitively  enjoy  the  mere  sense  of  existence; 
when  the  face  of  nature,  and  a  passive  conviction  of  the 
benevolence  of  our  Great  Father,  suffice  to  create  a 
serene  and  ineffable  happiness,  which  rarely  visits  us 
till  we  have  done  with  the  passions,  —  till  memories,  if 


ALICE;  OK,   THE   MYSTERIES.  253 

more  alive  than  heretofore,  are  yet  mellowed  in  the 
hues  of  time,  and  faith  softens  into  harmony  all  their 
asperities  and  harshness;  till  nothing  within  us  remains 
to  cast  a  shadow  over  the  things  without;  and  on  the 
verge  of  life,  the  angels  are  nearer  to  us  than  of  yore. 
There  is  an  old  age  which  has  more  youth  of  heart  than 
youth  itself. 

As  the  old  man  thus  sat,  the  little  gate  through  Avhich, 
on  Sabbath  days,  he  was  wont  to  pass  from  the  humble 
mansion  to  the  house  of  God,  noiselessly  opened,  and 
Lady  Vargrave  appeared. 

The  curate  rose  when  he  perceived  her;  and  the  lady's 
fair  features  were  lighted  up  with  a  gentle  pleasure,  as 
she  pressed  his  hand  and  returned  his  salutation. 

There  was  a  peculiarity  in  Lady  Vargrave 's  counte- 
nance which  I  have  rarely  seen  in  others.  Her  smile, 
which  was  singularly  expressive,  came  less  from  the  lip 
than  from  the  eyes;  it  was  almost  as  if  the  brow  smiled, 
—  it  was  as  the  sudden  and  momentary  vanishing  of  a 
light  but  melancholy  cloud  that  usually  rested  upon  the 
features,  placid  as  they  were. 

They  sat  down  on  the  rustic  bench,  and  the  sea-breeze 
wantoned  amongst  the  quivering  leaves  of  the  chestnut- 
tree  that  overhang  their  seat. 

"  I  have  come,  as  usual,  to  consult  my  kind  friend," 
said  Lady  Vargrave;  "and,  as  usual  also,  it  is  about 
our  absent  Evelyn." 

"  Have  you  heard  again  from  her,  this  morning  1  " 

"  Yes  ;  and  her  letter  increases  the  anxiety  which  your 
observation,  so  much  deeper  than  mine,  first  awakened." 

"  Does  she  then  write  much  of  Lord  Vargrave  ?  " 

"  Not  a  great  deal ;  but  the  little  she  does  say,  betrays 
how  much  she  shrinks  from  the  union  my  poor  husband 
desired,  —  more,  indeed,  than  ever!     But  this  is  not  all, 


254  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

nor  the  worst;  for  you  know  tliat  the  late  lord  had 
provided  against  that  probability  (he  loved  her  so  ten- 
derly, his  ambition  for  her  only  came  from  his  affec- 
iion),  and  the  letter  he  left  behind  him  pardons  and 
{•eleases  her  if  she  revolts  from  the  choice  he  himself 
preferred. " 

"  Lord  Vargrave  is  perhaps  a  generous,  he  certainly 
seems  a  candid  man,  and  he  must  be  sensible  that  his 
uncle  has  already  done  all  that  justice  required." 

"  I  think  so.  But  this,  as  I  said,  is  not  all ;  I  have 
brought  the  letter  to  show  you.  It  seems  to  me  as  you 
apprehended.  This  Mr.  Maltravers  has  wound  himself 
about  her  thoughts  more  than  slie  herself  imagines:  you 
see  how  she  dwells  on  all  that  concerns  him,  and  how, 
after  checking  herself,  she  returns  again  and  again  to 
the  same  subject." 

The  curate  put  on  his  spectacles,  and  took  the  letter. 
It  was  a  strange  tiling,  — that  old,  gray-haired  minister 
evincing  such  grave  interest  in  the  secrets  of  that  young 
heart!  But  they  who  would  take  charge  of  the  soul 
must  never  be  too  wise  to  regard  the  heart. 

Lady  Vargrave  looked  over  his  shoulder  as  he  bent 
down  to  read,  and  at  times  placed  her  finger  on  such 
passages  as  she  wished  him  to  note.  The  old  curate 
nodded  aa  she  did  so;  but  neither  spoke  till  the  letter 
was  concluded. 

The  curate  then  folded  up  the  epistle,  took  off  his 
spectacles,  hemmed,  and  looked  grave. 

"  Well,"  said  Lady  Vargrave,  anxiously  — "  well?  " 

"  My  dear  friend,  the  letter  requires  consideration. 
In  the  first  place,  it  is  clear  to  me  that,  in  spite  of  Lord 
Vargrave's  presence  at  the  Rectory,  his  lordship  so  man- 
ages matters  that  the  poor  child  is  unable  of  herself  to 
bring   that   matter   to  a  conclusion;   and,  indeed,  to  a 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  255 

mind  so  sensitively  delicate  and  honorable,  it  is  no  easy 
task." 

"  Shall  I  write  to  Lord  Vargrave  ?  " 

"  Let  us  think  of  it.  In  the  mean  while,  this  Mr. 
Maltravers  —  " 

"  Ah,  this  Mr.  Maltravers!  " 

"  The  child  shows  us  more  of  her  heart  than  she  thinks 
of;  and  yet  I  myself  am  puzzled.  If  you  observe,  she 
has  only  once  or  twice  spoken  of  the  Colonel  Legard 
whom  she  has  made  acquaintance  with;  while  she  treats 
at  length  of  Mr.  Maltravers,  and  confesses  the  effect  he 
has  produced  on  her  mind.  Yet,  do  you  know,  I  more 
dread  the  caution  respecting  the  first  than  all  the 
candor  that  betrays  the  influence  of  the  last?  There  is 
a  great  difi'erence  between  first  fancy  and  first  love." 

"Is  there?  "  said  the  lady,  abstractedly. 

"  Again,  neither  of  us  is  acquainted  with  this  singular 
man, — I  mean  Maltravers;  his  character,  temper,  and 
principles,  —  of  all  of  which  Evelyn  is  too  young,  too 
guileless,  to  judge  for  herself.  One  thing,  however,  in 
her  letter  speaks  in  his  favor." 

"  What  is  that  ?  " 

"  He  absents  himself  from  her.  This,  if  he  has  dis- 
covered her  secret,  —  or  if  he  himself  is  sensible  of  too 
great  a  charm  in  her  presence,  —  would  be  the  natural 
course  that  an  honorable  and  a  strong  mind  would 
pursue." 

"What!  — if  he  love  her?" 

"Yes,  —  while  he  believes  her  hand  is  engaged  to 
another. " 

"  True!  What  shall  be  done,  if  Evelyn  should  love, 
and  love  in  vain?  Ah,  it  is  the  misery  of  a  whole 
existence!  " 

"  Perhaps   she   had   better   return    to   us,"  said   Mr. 


256  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

Aubrey;  "and  yet,  if  already  it  be  too  late,  and  her 
affections  are  engaged,  we  should  still  remain  in  igno- 
rance respecting  the  motives  and  mind  of  the  object  of 
her  attachment.  And  he,  too,  might  not  know  the  true 
nature  of  the  obstacle  connected  with  Lord  Vargrave's 
claims." 

"  Shall  I,  then,  go  to  her?  You  know  how  I  shrink 
from  strangers;  how  I  fear  curiosity,  doubts,  and  ques- 
tions; how"  (and  Lady  Vargrave's  voice  faltered)  — 
"  how  unfitted  I  am  for  —  for  —  "  she  stopped  short,  and 
a  faint  blush  overspread  her  cheeks. 

The  curate  understood  her,  and  was  moved. 

"  Dear  friend,"  said  he,  "  will  you  intrust  this  charge 
to  myself?  You  know  how  Evelyn  is  endeared  to  me 
by  certain  recollections.  Perhaps,  better  than  you,  I 
may  be  enabled  silently  to  examine  if  this  man  be 
worthy  of  her,  and  one  who  could  secure  her  happiness; 
perhaps,  better  than  you,  I  may  ascertain  the  exact  na- 
ture of  her  own  feelings  towards  him;  perhaps,  too,  bet- 
ter than  you,  I  may  effect  an  understanding  with  Lord 
Vargrave. " 

"You  are  always  my  kindest  friend,"  said  the  lady, 
with  emotion.  "  How  much  I  already  owe  you!  —  what 
hopes  beyond  the  grave !  what  —  " 

"Hush,"  interrupted  the  curate ,  gently ;  "your  own 
good  heart  and  pure  intentions  have  worked  out  your 
own  atonement,  —  may  I  hope  also  your  own  content. 
Let  us  return  to  our  Evelyn:  poor  child!  how  unlike 
this  despondent  letter  to  her  gay,  light  spirits  when 
with  us!  We  acted  for  the  best;  yet  perhaps  we  did 
wrong  to  yield  her  up  to  strangers.  And  this  Mal- 
travers, —  with  her  enthusiasm  and  quick  susceptibilities 
to  genius,  she  was  half  prepared  to  imagine  him  all  she 
depicts  him  to  be.     He  must  have  a  spell  in  his  works 


ALICE;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES.  257 

that   I   have   not   discovered;  for  at  times  it  seems  to 
operate  even  on  you." 

"Because,"  said  Lady  Vargrave,  "they  remind  me  of 
his  conversation,  his  habits  of  thought.  If  like  hint 
in  other  things,  Evelyn  may  indeed  be  happy !  " 

"And  if,"  said  the  curate,  curiously, — "if,  now 
that  you  are  free,  you  were  ever  to  meet  with  hiin. 
again,  and  his  memory  had  been  as  faithful  as  yours; 
and  if  he  offered  the  sole  atonement  in  his  power  for 
all  that  his  early  error  cost  you,  —  if  such  a  chance 
should  happen  in  the  vicissitudes  of  life,  you  would —  " 

The  curate  stopped  short;  for  he  was  struck  by  the 
exceeding  paleness  of  his  friend's  cheek  and  the  tremor 
of  her  delicate  frame. 

"If  that  were  to  happen,"  said  she,  in  a  very  low 
voice;  "  if  we  were  to  meet  again,  and  if  he  were  —  as 
you  and  Mrs.  Leslie  seem  to  think  —  poor,  and  like  my- 
self, humbly  born;  if  my  fortune  could  assist  him;  if 
my  love  could  still  —  changed,  altered  as  I  am  —  ah,  do 
not  talk  of  it,  —  I  cannot  bear  the  thought  of  happiness! 
And  yet,  if  before  I  die  I  could  but  see  him  again!  " 
She  clasped  her  hands  fervently  as  she  spoke,  and  the 
blush  that  overspread  her  face  threw  over  it  so  much  of 
bloom  and  freshness  that  even  Evelyn  at  that  moment 
would  scarcely  have  seemed  more  young.  "Enough," 
she  added,  after  a  little  while,  as  the  glow  died  away. 
"It  is  but  a  foolish  hope;  all  earthly  love  is  buried; 
and  my  heart  is  there!  "  She  pointed  to  the  heavens, 
and  both  were  silent. 


17 


258  ALICE;   OK,    THE   MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Quibus  otio  vel  magnifire,  vel  molliter,  vivere  copia  erat,  incerta 
pro  certis  malebant.^  —  Sallust. 

Lord  Raby  —  one  of  the  wealthiest  and  most  splendid 
noblemen  in  England  —  was  prouder,  perhaps,  of  his 
provincial  distinctions  than  the  eminence  of  his  rank 
or  the  fashion  of  his  wife.  The  magnificent  chateaux, 
the  immense  estates  of  our  English  peers,  tend  to 
preserve  to  us,  in  spite  of  the  freedom,  bustle,  and  com- 
mercial grandeur  of  our  people,  more  of  the  Norman 
attributes  of  aristocracy  than  can  be  found  in  other  coun- 
tries. In  his  county,  the  great  noble  is  a  petty  prince^ 
his  house  is  a  court,  his  possessions  and  munificence  are 
a  boast  to  every  proprietor  in  his  district.  They  are 
as  fond  of  talking  of  the  earl's  or  the  duke's  movements 
and  entertainments,  as  Dangeau  was  of  the  gossip  of  the 
Tuileries  and  Versailles. 

Lord  Raby,  while  afiecting,  as  lieutenant  of  the 
county,  to  make  no  political  distinctions  between  squire 
and  squire,  —  hospitable  and  atiable  to  all,  —  still, 
by  tliat  very  absence  of  exclusiveness,  gave  a  tone  to 
the  politics  of  the  whole  county,  and  converted  many 
who  had  once  thouglit  ditferently  on  the  respective  vir- 
tues of  Whigs  and  Tories.  A  great  man  never  loses  so 
much  as  when  he  exhibits  intolerance,  or  parades  the 
light  of  persecution. 

1  They  who  hart  the  means  to  live  at  ease,  either  in  splendor  or 
in  luxury,  preferred  the  uncertainty  of  change  to  their  natural 
•ecurity. 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYbTEKlES.  259 

"My  tenants  shall  vote  exactly  as  they  please,"  said 
Lord  Raby ;  and  he  was  never  known  to  have  a  tenant 
vote  against  his  wishes.  Keeping  a  vigilant  eye  on  all 
the  interests,  and  conciliating  all  the  proprietors  in  the 
county,  he  not  only  never  lost  a  friend,  but  he  kept  to- 
gether a  body  of  partisans  that  constantly  added  to  its 
numbers. 

Sir  John  Merton's  colleague,  a  young  Lord  Nel- 
thorpe,  who  could  not  speak  three  sentences  if  you  took 
away  his  hat,  and  who,  constant  at  Almack's,  was  not 
only  inaudible  but  invisible  in  Parliament,  had  no 
chance  of  being  re-elected.  Lord  ISTelthorpe's  father, 
the  Earl  of  Mainwaring,  was  a  new  peer,  and  next  to 
Lord  Raby,  the  richest  nobleman  in  the  county.  Now, 
though  they  were  much  of  the  same  politics.  Lord  Eaby 
hated  Lord  Mainwaring.  They  were  too  near  each  other; 
they  clashed;  they  had  the  jealousy  of  rival  princes. 

Lord  Eaby  was  delighted  at  the  notion  of  getting  rid 
of  Lord  Xelthorpe,  —  it  would  be  so  sensible  a  blow  to 
the  Mainwaring  interest.  The  party  had  been  looking 
out  for  a  new  candidate,  and  Mai tra vers  had  been  much 
talked  of.  It  is  true  that  when  in  Parliament  some 
years  before,  the  politics  of  Maltravers  had  differed  from 
those  of  Lord  Raby  and  his  set.  But  Maltravers  had  of 
late  taken  no  share  in  politics,  had  uttered  no  political 
opinions,  was  intimate  with  the  electioneering  Mertons, 
was  supposed  to  be  a  discontented  man,  —  and  politicians 
believe  in  no  discontent  that  is  not  political.  Whispers 
were  afloat  that  Maltravers  had  grown  wise,  and  changed 
his  views;  some  remarks  of  his,  more  theoretical  than 
practical,  were  quoted  in  favor  of  this  notion.  Parties, 
too,  had  much  changed  since  ]Maltravers  had  appeared 
on  the  busy  scene;  new  questions  had  arisen,  and  the 
old  ones  had  died  off. 


2 GO  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES. 

Lord  Rabj''  and  his  party  thought  that  if  Malt  ravers 
could  be  secured  to  them,  no  one  would  better  suit  their 
purpose.  Political  faction  loves  converts  better  even 
than  consistent  adherents.  A  man's  rise  in  life  generally 
dates  from  a  well-timed  rat.  His  high  reputation, 
his  provincial  rank  as  the  representative  of  the  oldest 
commoner's  family  in  the  county,  liis  age,  which  com- 
bined the  energy  of  one  period  with  the  experience  of 
another,  —  all  united  to  accord  Maltravers  a  preference 
over  richer  men.  Lord  Raby  had  been  pointedly  cour- 
teous and  flattering  to  the  master  of  Burleigh;  and  he 
now  contrived  it  so  that  the  brilliant  entertainment  he 
was  about  to  give  might  appear  in  compliment  to  a 
distinguished  neighbor,  returned  to  fix  his  residence  on 
his  patrimonial  property,  while  in  reality  it  might  serve 
an  electioneering  purpose , —  serve  to  introduce  Maltravers 
to  the  county,  as  if  under  his  lordship's  own  wing, 
and  minister  to  political  uses  that  went  beyond  the  mere 
representation  of  the  county. 

Lord  Vargrave  had,  during  his  stay  at  Merton  Rec- 
tory, paid  several  visits  to  Knaresdean,  and  held  many 
private  conversations  with  the  marquess;  the  result  of 
these  conversations  was  a  close  union  of  schemes  and 
interests  between  the  two  noblemen.  Dissatisfied  with 
the  political  conduct  of  government,  Lord  Raby  Avas 
also  dissatisfied  that,  from  various  party  reasons,  a  noble- 
man beneath  himself  in  rank,  and  as  he  thought  in  in- 
fluence, had  obtaineil  a  preference  in  a  recent  vacancy 
among  the  Kniglits  of  the  Garter.  And  if  Vargrave 
had  a  talent  in  the  world,  it  was  in  discovering  the 
weak  points  of  men  whom  he  sought  to  gain,  and  mak- 
ing the  vanities  of  others  conduce  to  his  own  ambition. 

The  festivities  of  Knaresdean  gave  occasion  to  Lord 
Raby  to  unite  at  his  house  the  more  prominent  of  those 


ALICE  ;   OR,    THE    MYSTERIES.  261 

wlio  thought  and  acted  in  concert  with  Lord  Vargrave ; 
and  in  this  secret  senate  the  operations  for  the  follow- 
ing session  were  to  be  seriously  discussed  and  gravely 
determined. 

On  the  day  which  was  to  be  concluded  with  the  ball 
at  Knaresdean,  Lord  Vargrave  went  before  the  rest  of 
the  Merton  party ;  for  he  was  engaged  to  dine  with  the 
marquess. 

On  arriving  at  Knaresdean,  Lumley  found  Lord  Sax- 
inghara  and  some  other  politicians,  who  had  arrived  the 
preceding  day,  closeted  with  Lord  Raby ;  and  Vargrave, 
who  shone  to  yet  greater  advantage  in  the  diplomacy  of 
party  management  than  in  the  arena  of  Parliament, 
brought  penetration,  energy,  and  decision  to  timid  and 
fluctuating  councils.  Lord  Vargrave  lingered  in  the 
room  after  the  first  bell  had  summoned  the  other  guests 
to  depart. 

"  My  dear  lord,"  said  he,  then,  "  though  no  one  would 
be  more  glad  than  myself  to  secure  Maltravers  to  our 
side,  I  very  much  doubt  whether  you  will  succeed  in 
doing  so.  On  the  one  hand,  he  appears  altogether  dis- 
gusted with  politics  and  Parliament;  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  I  fancy  that  reports  of  his  change  of  opinions  are, 
if  not  wholly  unfounded,  very  unduly  colored.  More- 
over, to  do  him  justice,  I  think  that  he  is  not  one  to  be 
blinded  and  flattered  into  the  pale  of  a  party ;  and  your 
bird  will  fly  away  after  you  have  wasted  a  bucketful  of 
salt  on  his  tail." 

"Very  possibly,"  said  Lord  Raby,  laughing;  "you 
knoAV  him  better  than  I  do.  But  there  are  many  pur- 
poses to  serve  in  this  matter,  —  purposes  too  provincial 
to  interest  you.  In  the  first  place,  we  shall  humble 
the  iSTelthorpe  interest,  merely  by  showing  that  we  do 
think  of  a  new  member;  secondly,  we  shall    get  up    a 


2G2  ALICE;    OR,   THE    MYSTERIES. 

manifestation  of  feeling  that  would  be  impossible  un- 
less we  were  provided  with  a  centre  of  attraction;  thirdly, 
we  shall  rouse  a  certain  emulation  among  other  county 
gentlemen,  and  if  Maltravers  decline,  we  shall  have 
many  applicants;  and  fourthly,  suppose  Maltravers  has 
not  changed  his  opinions,  we  shall  make  him  suspected 
by  the  party  he  really  does  belong  to,  and  which  would 
be  somewhat  formidable  if  he  were  to  head  them.  In 
fact,  these  are  mere  county  tactics,  that  you  can't  be 
expected  to  understand." 

"I  see  you  are  quite  right;  meanwhile  you  will 
at  least  have  an  oppoitunity  (though  I  say  it,  who 
should  not  say  it)  to  present  to  the  county  one  of  the 
prettiest  young  ladies  that  ever  graced  the  halls  of 
Knaresdean." 

"  Ah ,  Miss  Cameron !  I  have  heard  much  of  her 
beauty:  you  are  a  lucky  fellow,  Vargrave!  By  the  bye, 
are  we  to  say  anything  of  the  engagement  ?  " 

"Why,  indeed,  my  dear  lord,  it  is  now  so  publicly 
known  that  it  would  be  false  delicacy  to  affect  conceal- 
ment. " 

"  Very  well ;  T  understand. " 

"How  long  I  have  detained  you!  A  thousand  par- 
dons! —  I  have  but  just  time  to  dress.  In  four  or  five 
months  I  must  remember  to  leave  you  a  longer  time  for 
your  toilet." 

"  :\re,  —  how  ?  " 

"  Oh,  the  Duke  of can't  live  long;  and  I  always 

observe  that  when  a  handsome  man  has  the  Garter,  be 
takes  a  long  time  pulling  up  his  stockings." 

"  Ha,  ha!  you  are  so  droll,  Vargrave." 

"  Ha,  ha!  1  must  be  off." 

"  The  more  publicity  is  given  to  this  arrangement, 
the  more  difficult  for  Evelyn  to  shy  at  the  leap,"  mut- 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTEIIIES.  263 

tered  Vargrave  to  himself  as  he  closed  the  door.     "  Thus 
do  I  make  all  things  useful  to  myself. " 

The  dinner-party  were  assembled  in  the  great  draw- 
ing-room when  Maltravers  and  Cleveland,  also  invited 
guests  to  the  banquet,  were  announced.  Lord  Raby 
received  the  former  with  marked  empressement;  and  the 
stately  marchioness  honored  him  with  her  most  gracious 
smile.  Formal  presentations  to  the  rest  of  the  guests 
were  interchanged;  and  it  was  not  till  the  circle  was 
fully  gone  through  that  Maltravers  perceived,  seated 
by  himself  in  a  corner,  to  which  he  had  shrunk  on  the 
entrance  of  Maltravers,  a  gray -haired,  solitary  man,  —  it 
Avas  Lord  Saxingham.  The  last  time  they  had  met  was 
in  the  death-chamber  of  Florence;  and  the  old  man  for- 
got for  the  moment  the  anticipated  dukedom  and  the 
dreamed-of  premiership,  and  his  heart  flew  back  to 
the  grave  of  his  only  child.  They  saluted  each  other, 
and  shook  hands  in  silence.  And  Vargrave,  whose  eye 
was  on  them,  —  Vargrave,  whose  arts  had  made  that  old 
man  childless,  felt  not  a  pang  of  remorse!  Living 
ever  in  the  future,  Vargrave  almost  seemed  to  have  lost 
his  memory.  He  knew  not  what  regret  was.  It  is  a 
condition  of  life  with  men  thoroughly  worldly  that 
they  never  look  behind. 

The  signal  was  given;  in  due  order  the  party  were 
marshalled  into  the  great  hall, — a  spacious  and  lofty 
chamber,  which  had  received  its  last  alteration  from  the 
hand  of  Inigo  Jones,  though  the  massive  ceiling,  with 
its  antique  and  grotesque  masques,  betrayed  a  much 
earlier  date,  and  contrasted  with  the  Corinthian  pilas- 
ters that  adorned  the  walls,  and  supported  the  music 
gallery,  from  which  waved  the  flags  of  modern  warfare 
and  its  mimicries.  The  Eagle  of  Napoleon,  a  token  of 
the    services  of  Lord  Raby's  brother    (a  distinguished 


264  ALICE  ;   OR,    THE   MYSTERIES. 

cavalry  officer  in  command  at  Waterloo),  in  juxtaposi- 
tion with  a  much  gayer  and  more  glittering  banner,  em- 
blematic of  the  martial  fame  of  Lord  Raby  himself,  as 
Colonel  of  the  B shire  volunteers! 

The  music  pealed  from  the  gallery ;  the  plate  glittered 
on  the  board;  the  ladies  wore  diamonds,  and  the  gentle- 
men who  had  them  wore  stars.  It  was  a  very  fine 
sight,  that  banquet!  —  such  as  became  the  festive  day  of 
a  lord-lieutenant,  whose  ancestors  had  now  defied,  and 
now  intermarried  with,  royalty.  But  there  was  very 
little  talk,  and  no  merriment.  People  at  the  top  of  the 
table  drank  wine  Avith  those  at  the  bottom;  and  gen- 
tlemen and  ladies  seated  next  to  each  other  whispered 
languidly  in  monosyllabic  commune.  On  one  side  Mal- 
travers  was  flanked  by  a  Lady  Somebody  Something, 
who  was  rather  deaf,  and  very  much  frightened  for  fear 
he  should  talk  Greek ;  on  the  other  side  he  was  relieved 
by  Sir  John  Merton,  —  very  civil,  very  pompous,  and 
talking,  at  strictured  intervals,  about  county  matters 
in  a  measured  intonation,  savoring  of  the  House-of- 
Commons  jerk  at  the  end  of  the  sentence. 

As  the  dinner  advanced  to  its  close.  Sir  John  became 
a  little  more  difi'use,  though  his  voice  sank  into  a 
whisper. 

"  I  fear  there  will  be  a  split  in  the  Cabinet  before 
Parliament  meets." 

"Lideed!" 

"  Yes ;  Vargrave  and  the  premier  cannot  pull  together 
very  long.  Clever  man,  Vargrave;  but  he  has  not 
enough  stake  in  the  country  for  a  leader. " 

"  All  men  have  public  character  to  stake;  and  if  that 
be  good ,  I  suppose  no  stake  can  be  better  ?  " 

"Humph! — yes;  very  true;  but  still,  when  a  man 
has   land  and  money,  his  opinions,  in  a  country  like 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  265 

this,  very  properly  carry  more  weight  with  them.  If 
Vargrave,  for  instance,  had  Lord  Raby's  property,  no 
man  could  be  more  fit  for  a  leader,  —  a  prime  minister. 
We  might  then  be  sure  that  he  would  have  no  selfish 
interest  to  further;  he  would  not  play  tricks  with  his 
party,  —  you  understand ?  " 

"Perfectly." 

"I  am  not  a  party  man,  as  you  may  remember;  in- 
deed, you  and  I  have  voted  alike  on  the  same  questions. 
Measures,  not  men, — that  is  my  maxim;  but  still  I 
don't  like  to  see  men  placed  above  their  proper 
stations." 

"  Maltravers,  —  a  glass  of  wine,"  said  Lord  Vargrave 
across  the  table.     "  Will  you  join  us,  Sir  John?  " 

Sir  John  bowed. 

"Certainly,"  he  resumed,  "  Vargrave  is  a  pleasant  man 
and  a  good  speaker;  but  still  they  say  he  is  far  from 
rich,  —  embarrassed,  indeed.  However,  when  he  mar- 
ries Miss  Cameron,  it  may  make  a  great  difference,  — 
give  him  more  respectability.  Do  you  know  what  her 
fortune  is,  —  something  immense?  " 

"  Yes;  I  believe  so,  —  I  don't  know." 

"  My  brother  says  that  Vargrave  is  most  amiable. 
The  young  lady  is  very  handsome,  almost  too  hand- 
some for  a  wife.  Don't  you  think  so  ?  Beauties  are  all 
very  well  in  a  ball-room;  but  they  are  not  calculated 
for  domestic  life.  I  am  sure  you  agree  with  me.  I 
have  heard,  indeed,  that  Miss  Cameron  is  rather  learned; 
but  there  is  so  much  scandal  in  a  country  neighborhood: 
people  are  so  ill-natured.  I  daresay  she  is  not  more 
learned  than  other  young  ladies,  poor  girl!  What  do 
you  think  ?  " 

"  Miss  Cameron  is  —  is  very  accomplished,  I  believe. 
And  so  you  think  the  government  cannot  stand  ?  " 


266  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES. 

"I  don't  say  that,  —  very  far  from  it;  but  I  fear 
there  must  be  a  change.  However,  if  the  country  gen- 
tlemen hold  together,  I  do  not  doubt  but  what  we  shall 
weather  the  storm.  The  landed  interest,  Mr.  Mal- 
travers,  is  the  great  stay  of  this  country,  —  the  sheet- 
anchor,  I  may  say.  I  suppose  Lord  Vargrave,  who 
seems,  I  must  say,  to  liave  right  notions  on  this  head, 
will  invest  Miss  Cameron's  fortune  in  land.  But 
though  one  may  buy  an  estate,  one  can't  buy  an  old 
family,  Mr.  Maltravers!  —  you  and  I  may  be  thankful 
for  that.  By  the  way,  who  was  Miss  Cameron's 
mother,  Lady  Vargrave?  Something  low,  I  fear:  no- 
body knows." 

"  I  am  not  acquainted  with  Lady  Vargrave ;  your 
sister-in-law  speaks  of  her  most  highly.  And  the 
daughter  in  herself  is  a  sufficient  guarantee  for  the 
virtues  of  the  mother. " 

"Yes;  and  Vargrave,  on  one  side  at  least,  has  him- 
self nothing  in  the  way  of  family  to  boast  of. " 

The  ladies  left  the  hall;  the  gentlemen  re-seated 
themselves.  Lord  Raby  made  some  remark  on  politics 
to  Sir  John  Merton,  and  the  whole  round  of  talkers 
immediately  followed  their  leader. 

"  It  is  a  thousand  pities,  Sir  John,"  said  Lord  Raby, 
"  that  you  have  not  a  colleague  more  worthy  of  you. 
Nelthorpe  never  attends  a  committee,  does  he  ?  " 

"I  cannot  say  that  he  is  a  very  active  member;  but 
he  is  young,  and  we  must  make  allowances  for  him," 
said  Sir  John,  discreetly;  for  he  had  no  desire  to  oust 
his  colleague,  —  it  was  agreeable  enough  to  be  the  effi- 
cient member. 

"  In  these  times,"  said  Lord  Raby,  loftily,  "  allow- 
ances are  not  to  be  made  for  sy.stematic  neglect  of  duty. 
We  shall   have  a  stormy  session;  the   Opposition  is  no 


ALICE  ;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES.  267 

longer  to  be  despised,  —  perhaps  a  dissolution  may  be 
nearer  at  hand  than  we  think  for:  as  for  Nelthorpe,  he 
cannot  come  in  again." 

"  That  I  am  quite  sure  of,"  said  a  fat  country  gentle- 
man of  great  weight  in  the  county ;  "  he  not  only  was 
absent  on  the  great  Malt  question,  but  he  never  an- 
swered my  letter  respecting  the  Canal  Company." 

"Not  answered  your  letter!  "  said  Lord  Eaby,  lifting 
up  his  hands  and  eyes  in  amaze  and  horror.  "  What 
conduct!  Ah,  Mr.  Maltravers,  you  are  the  man  for 
us!" 

"  Hear !  hear !  "  cried  the  fat  squire. 

"  Hear !  "  echoed  Vargrave ;  and  the  approving  sound 
went  round  the  table. 

Lord  Raby  rose.  "Gentlemen,  fill  your  glasses:  a 
health  to  our  distinguished  neighbor!  " 

The  company  applauded;  each  in  his  turn  smiled, 
nodded,  and  drank  to  Maltravers,  who,  though  taken  by 
surprise,  saw  at  once  the  course  to  pursue.  He  returned 
thanks  simply  and  shortly ;  and  without  pointedly  no- 
ticing the  allusion  in  which  Lord  Raby  had  indulged, 
remarked  incidentally  that  he  had  retired,  certainly 
for  some  years,  perhaps  forever,  from  political  life. 

Vargrave -smiled  significantly  at  Lord  Raby,  and  has- 
tened to  lead  the  conversatirn  into  party  discussion. 
Wrapped  in  his  proud  disdain  of  what  he  considered 
the  contests  of  factions  for  toys  and  shadows,  Maltravers 
remained  silent;  and  the  party  soon  broke  up,  and  ad- 
journed to  the  ball-room. 


268  ALICE;  OR,   THE  MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTEE   III. 

Le  plus  grand  d^faut  de  la  penetration  n'est  pas  de  n'aller  point 
jusqu'au  but,  c'est  de  le  passer.i  —  La  Rochefoucauld. 

Evelyn  had  looked  forward  to  the  ball  at  Knaresdean 
with  feelings  deeper  than  those  which  usually  inflame 
the  fancy  of  a  girl,  proud  of  her  dress,  and  confident 
of  her  beauty.  Whether  or  not  she  loved  Maltravers 
in  the  true  acceptation  of  the  word  love,  it  is  certain 
that  he  had  acquired  a  most  powerful  command  over 
her  mind  and  imagination.  She  felt  the  warmest  in- 
terest in  his  welfare,  the  most  anxious  desire  for  his 
esteem,  the  deepest  regret  at  the  thought  of  their 
estrangement.  At  Knaresdean  she  should  meet  Mal- 
travers; in  crowds,  it  is  true, — but  still  she  should 
meet  him ;  she  should  see  him  towering  superior  above 
the  herd;  she  should  hear  him  praised;  she  should 
mark  him,  the  observed  of  all.  But  there  was  another 
and  a  deeper  source  of  joy  within  her.  A  letter  had 
been  that  morning  received  from  Aubrey,  in  which  he 
had  announced  his  arrival  for  the  next  day.  The  letter, 
though  aifectionate,  was  short.  Evelyn  had  been  some 
months  absent;  Lady  Vargrave  was  anxious  to  make 
arrangements  for  her  return;  but  it  was  to  be  at  her 
option  whether  she  would  accompany  the  curate  home. 
Now,  besides  her  delight  at  seeing  once  more  the  dear 
old  man,  and  hearing  from  his  lips  that  her  mother  was 

1  The  greatest  defect  of  penetration  is  not  that  of  not  going  just 
up  to  the  point,  —  it  is  the  passing  it. 


ALICE  ;    OK,    THE   MYSTERIES.  269 

well  and  happy,  Evelyn  hailed  in  his  arrival  the  means 
of  extricating  herself  from  her  position  with  Lord  Var- 
grave.  She  would  confide  in  him  her  increased  repug- 
nance to  that  union;  he  would  confer  with  Lord  Var- 
grave ;  and  then  —  and  then  —  did  there  come  once 
more  the  thought  of  Maltravers  ?  Xo ;  I  fear  it  was 
not  Maltravers  who  called  forth  that  smile  and  that 
sigh.  Strange  girl,  you  know  not  your  own  mind; 
but  few  of  us,  at  your  age,  do. 

In  all  the  gayety  of  hope,  in  the  pride  of  dress  and 
half-conscious  loveliness,  Evelyn  went  with  a  light  step 
into  Caroline's  room.  Miss  Merton  had  already  dis- 
missed her  woman,  and  was  seated  by  her  writing-table, 
leaning  her  cheek  thoughtfully  on  her  hand. 

"Is  it  time  to  go?"  said  she,  looking  up.  "Well, 
we  shall  put  papa,  and  the  coachman,  and  the  horses, 
too,  in  excellent  humor.  How  well  you  look!  Really, 
Evelyn,  you  are  indeed  beautiful!  "  and  Caroline  gazed 
with  honest  but  not  unenvious  admiration  at  the 
fairy  form,  so  rounded  and  yet  so  delicate,  and  the 
face  that  seemed  to  blush  at  its  own  charms. 

"  I  am  sure  I  can  return  the  flattery,"  said  Evelyn, 
laughing  bashfully. 

"Oh,  as  for  me,  I  am  well  enough  in  my  way; 
and  hereafter,  I  daresay,  we  may  be  rival  beauties.  I 
hope  we  shall  remain  good  friends,  and  rule  the  world 
with  divided  empire.  Do  you  not  long  for  the  stir  and 
excitement  and  ambition  of  London?  —  for  ambition  is 
open  to  us  as  to  men." 

"No,  indeed,"  replied  Evelyn,  smiling;  "I  could 
be  ambitious,  indeed;  but  it  would  not  be  for  myself, 
but  for  —  " 

"  A  husband,  perhaps;  well,  you  will  have  ample 
scope  for  such  sympathy.     Lord  Vargrave  —  " 


270  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES. 

"  Lord  Vargrave  again !  "  and  Evelyn's  smile  vanished, 
and  she  turned  away. 

"Ah,"  said  Caroline,  "I  should  have  made  Vargrave 
an  excellent  wife;  pity  he  does  not  think  so!  As  it 
is,  I  must  set  up  for  myself,  and  become  a  maitresse 
femme.  So  you  think  I  look  well  to-night?  I  am  glad 
of  it;  Lord  Doltimore  is  one  who  will  be  guided  by 
Avhat  other  people  say. " 

"  You  are  not  serious  about  Lord  Doltimore  1  " 

"  Most  sadly  serious. " 

"Impossible!  you  could  not  speak  so  if  you  loved 
him." 

"  Loved  him!  no!  but  I  intend  to  marry  him." 

Evelyn  was  revolted,  but  still  incredulous. 

"  And  you  too  will  marry  one  whom  you  do  not 
love!     'Tis  our  fate  —  " 

"Never!" 

"We  shall  see." 

Evelyn's  heart  was  damped,  and  her  spirits  fell. 

"  Tell  me  now,"  said  Caroline,  pressing  on  the  wrung 
withers,  "  do  you  not  think  this  excitement,  partial  and 
provincial  though  it  be,  — the  sense  of  beauty,  the  hope 
of  conquest,  the  consciousness  of  power, —  better  than  the 
dull  monotony  of  the  Devonshire  cottage  ?    Be  honest  —  " 

"No;  no,  indeed!"  answered  Evelyn,  tearfully  and 
passionately:  "one  hour  with  my  mother,  one  smile 
from  her  lips,   were  worth  it  all." 

"  And  in  your  visions  of  marriage,  you  think,  then,  of 
nothing  but  ro.ses  and  doves,  —  love  in  a  cottage !  " 

"  Love  in  a  home,  no  matter  whether  a  palace  or  a 
cottage,"  returned  Evelyn. 

"Home!"  repeated  Caroline,  bitterly:  "home, — ■ 
home  is  the  English  synonym  for  the  French  ennui. 
liut  I  hoar  papa  on   the  stairs." 


alick;  or,  the  mysteries.  271 

A  ball-room,  —  what  a  scene  of  commonplace ;  liow 
hackneyed  in  novels;  how  trite  in  ordinary  life!  and 
yet  ball-rooms  have  a  character  and  a  sentiment  of  their 
own,  for  all  tempers  and  all  ages.  Something  in  the 
lights,  the  crowd,  the  music,  conduces  to  stir  up  many 
of  the  thoughts  that  belong  to  fancy  and  romance.  It  is 
a  melancholy  scene  to  men  after  a  certain  age.  It  re- 
vives many  of  those  lighter  and  more  graceful  images 
connected  with  the  wandering  desires  of  youth,  —  shadows 
that  crossed  us,  and  seemed  love,  but  were  not,  having 
much  of  the  grace  and  charm,  but  none  of  the  passion 
and  the  tragedy  of  love.  So  many  of  our  earliest  and 
gentlest  recollections  are  connected  with  those  chalked 
floors,  and  that  music  painfully  gay,  and  those  quiet 
nooks  and  corners,  where  the  talk  that  hovers  about  the 
heart  and  does  not  touch  it  has  been  held.  Apart  and 
unsympathizing,  in  that  austerer  wisdom  which  comes 
to  us  after  deep  passions  have  been  excited,  we  see 
form  after  form  chasing  the  butterflies  that  dazzle  us  no 
longer  among  the  flowers  that  have  evermore  lost  their 
fragrance. 

Somehow  or  other  it  is  one  of  the  scenes  that  remind 
us  most  forcibly  of  the  loss  of  youth.  We  are  brought 
so  closely,  in  contact  with  the  young  and  with  the  short- 
lived pleasures  that  once  pleased  us,  and  have  forfeited 
all  bloom.  Happy  the  man  who  turns  from  "  the  tink- 
ling cymbal"  and  "the  gallery  of  pictures,"  and  can 
think  of  some  watchful  eye  and  some  kind  heart  at 
home.  But  those  who  have  no  home  —  and  they  are  a 
numerous  tribe  —  never  feel  lonelier  hermits  or  sadder 
moralists  than  in  such  a  crowd. 

Maltravers  leaned  abstractedly  against  the  wall,  and 
some  such  reflections,  perhaps,  passed  within,  as  the 
plumes  waved  and  the  diamonds  glittered  around  him- 


272  ALICE;    OR,   THE    MYSTERIES. 

Ever  too  proud  to  be  vain,  the  monstrari  digito  had  not 
flattered  even  in  the  commencement  of  his  career.  And 
now  he  heeded  not  tlie  eyes  that  sought  his  look,  nor 
the  admiring  murmur  of  lips  anxious  to  be  overheard. 
Affluent,  well-born,  unmarried,  and  still  in  the  prime 
of  life,  —  in  the  small  circles  of  a  province,  Ernest  Mal- 
travers  would  in  himself  have  been  an  object  of  interest 
to  the  diplomacy  of  mothers  and  daughters ;  and  the  false 
glare  of  reputation  necessarily  deepened  curiosity,  and 
widened  the  range  of  speculators  and  observers. 

Suddenly,  however,  a  new  object  of  attention  excited 
new  interest,  —  new  whispers  ran  through  the  crowd, 
and  these  awakened  Maltravers  from  his  reverie.  He 
looked  up,  and  beheld  all  eyes  fixed  upon  one  form. 
His  own  eyes  encountered  those  of  Evelyn  Cameron. 

It  was  the  first  time  he  had  seen  this  beautiful  young 
person  in  all  the  eclat,  pomp,  and  circumstance  of  her 
station,  as  the  heiress  of  the  opulent  Templeton,  — the 
first  time  he  had  seen  her  the  cynosure  of  crowds,  who, 
had  her  features  been  homely,  would  have  admired  the 
charms  of  her  fortune  in  lier  face.  And  now  as,  radiant 
with  youth,  and  the  flush  of  excitement  on  her  soft 
cheek,  she  met  his  eye,  he  said  to  himself,  "  And  could 
I  have  wished  one  so  new  to  the  world  to  have  united 
her  lot  with  a  man  for  whom  all  that  to  her  is  delight 
has  grown  wearisome  and  stale?  Could  I  have  been 
justified  in  stealing  her  from  the  admiration  that,  at  her 
age  and  to  her  sex,  has  so  sweet  a  flattery  ?  Or,  on  the 
other  hand,  could  I  have  gone  back  to  her  years,  and 
sympathized  with  feelings  that  time  has  taught  me  to 
despise?     Better  as  it  is." 

Influenced  by  these  thoughts,  the  greeting  of  Mal- 
travers disappointed  and  saddened  Evelyn,  she  knew  not 
why;  it  was  constrained  and  grave. 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  273 

"Does  not  Miss  Cameron  look  well?"  whispered 
Mrs.  Merton,  on  whose  arm  the  heiress  leaned.  "  You 
observe  what  a  sensation  she  creates  ?  " 

Evelyn  overheard,  and  blushed  as  she  stole  a  glance 
at  Maltravers.  There  was  something  mournful  in  the 
admiration  which  spoke  in  his  deep,  earnest  eyes. 

"  Everywhere,"  said  he,  calmly,  and  in  the  same  tone, 
— "  everywhere  Miss  Cameron  appears,  she  must  out- 
shine all  others."  He  turned  to  Evelyn,  and  said,  with 
a  smile,  "  You  must  learn  to  inure  yourself  to  admira- 
tion; a  year  or  two  hence,  and  you  will  not  blush  at 
your  own  gifts." 

"  And  you,  too,  contribute  to  spoil  me!     Fie!  " 

"Are  you  so  easily  spoiled?  If  I  meet  you  hereafter, 
you  will  think  my  compliments  cold  to  the  common 
language  of  others." 

"  You  do  not  know  me,  —  perhaps  you  never  will." 

"  I  am  contented  with  the  fair  pages  I  have  already 
read." 

"  Where  is  Lady  Raby  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Merton.  "  Oh, 
I  see.  Evelyn,  my  love,  we  must  present  ourselves  to 
our  hostess." 

The  ladies  moved  on;  and  when  Maltravers  next 
caught  a  glance  of  Evelyn,  she  was  with  Lady  Eaby, 
and  Lord  Vargrave  also  was  by  her  side. 

The  whispers  round  him  had  grown  louder. 

"Very  lovely  indeed, — so  young,  too!  and  she  is 
really  going  to  be  married  to  Lord  Vargrave :  so  much 
older  than  she  is,  —  quite  a  sacrifice!" 

"  Scarcely  so.  He  is  so  agreeable,  and  still  handsome. 
But  are  you  sure  that  the  thing  is  settled  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes.  Lord  Kaby  himself  told  me  so.  It  will 
take  place  very  soon." 

18 


274  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

"  But  do  you  know  who  her  mother  was  ?  I  cannot 
make  out." 

"  Nothing  particular.  You  know  the  late  Lord 
Vargrave  was  a  man  of  low  birth.  I  believe  she 
was  a  widow  of  his  own  rank;  she  lives  quite  in 
seclusion." 

"  How  d'  ye  do,  Mr.  Maltravers  ?  So  glad  to  see  you," 
said  the  quick,  shrill  voice  of  Mrs.  Hare.  "  Beautiful 
ball:  nobody  does  things  like  Lord  Kaby.  Don't  you 
dance  1  " 

"  No,  madam. " 

"Oh,  you  young  gentlemen  are  so  fine  nowadays." 
(Mrs.  Hare,  laying  stress  on  the  word  young,  thought 
she  had  paid  a  very  elegant  compliment,  and  ran  on  with 
increased  complacency.) 

"You  are  going  to  let  Burleigh,  I  hear,  to  Lord 
Doltimore;  is  it  true?  No  I  really  now,  what  stories 
people  do  tell!  Elegant  man.  Lord  Doltimore!  Is  it 
true  that  Miss  Caroline  is  going  to  marry  his  lordship? 
Great  match!  No  scandal,  I  hope;  you'll  excuse  me! 
Two  weddings  on  the  tapis,  —  quite  stirring  for  our 
stupid  county.  Lady  Vargrave  and  Lady  Doltimore, 
two  new  peeresses.  Which  do  you  think  is  the  hand- 
somer? Miss  Merton  is  the  taller,  but  there  is  some- 
thing fierce  in  her  eyes.  Don't  you  think  so?  By  the 
bye,  I  wish  you  joy;  you  '11  excuse  me." 

"  Wish  me  joy,  madam!  " 

"  Oh,  you  are  so  close.  Mr.  Hare  says  he  shall  sup- 
port you.  You  will  have  all  the  ladies  with  you. 
Well,  I  declare.  Lord  Vargrave  is  going  to  dance.  How 
old  is  he,  do  you  think?" 

Maltravers  uttered  an  audible  pshaw,  and  moved 
away;  but  his  penance  was  not  over.  Lord  Vargrave, 
much  as  he  disliked  dancing,  still  thought  it  wise  to  ask 


ALICE;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  275 

the  fair  hand  of  Evelyn;  and  Evelyn  also  could  not 
refuse. 

And  now,  as  the  crowd  gathered  round  the  red  ropes, 
Maltravers  had  to  undergo  new  exclamations  at  Evelyn's 
beauty  and  Vargrave's  luck.  Impatiently  he  turned 
from  the  spot,  with  that  gnawing  sickness  of  the  heart 
which  none  but  the  jealous  know.  He  longed  to  depart, 
yet  dreaded  to  do  so.  It  was  the  last  time  he  should  see 
Evelyn  perhaps  for  years,  —  the  last  time  he  should  see 
her  as  Miss  Cameron. 

He  passed  into  another  room,  deserted  by  all  save  four 
old  gentlemen  —  Cleveland  one  of  them  —  immersed  in 
whist,  and  threw  himself  upon  an  ottoman,  placed  in 
a  recess  by  the  oriel  window.  There,  half-concealed  by 
the  draperies,  he  communed  and  reasoned  with  himself. 
His  heart  was  sad  within  him;  he  never  felt  before  how 
deeply  and  liow  passionately  he  loved  Evelyn,  —  how 
firmly  that  love  had  fastened  upon  the  very  core  of  his 
heart.  Strange,  indeed,  it  was  in  a  girl  so  young,  of 
whom  he  had  seen  but  little,  —  and  that  little  in  posi- 
tions of  such  quiet  and  ordinary  interest,  —  to  excite  a 
passion  so  intense  in  a  man  who  had  gone  through  strong 
emotions  and  stern  trials!  But  all  love  is  unaccount- 
able. The  solitude  in  which  Maltravers  had  lived, 
the  absence  of  all  other  excitement,  perhaps  had  con- 
tributed largely  to  fan  the  flame.  And  his  affections 
had  so  long  slept;  and  after  long  sleep  tlie  passions 
wake  with  such  giant  strength!  He  felt  now  too  well 
that  the  last  rose  of  life  had  bloomed  for  him,  —  it  was 
blighted  in  its  birth,  but  it  could  never  be  replaced. 
Henceforth,  indeed,  he  should  be  alone,  — the  hopes  of 
homo  were  gone  forever;  and  the  other  occupations  of 
mind  and  soul  —  literature,  pleasure,  ambition  —  were 
already  forsworn  at  the  very  age  in  which  by  most  men 


276  ALICE  ;   OK,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

they  are  most  indulged.  0  Youth !  begin  not  thy  career 
too  soon,  and  let  one  passion  succeed  in  its  due  order  to 
another,  so  that  every  season  of  life  may  have  its  appro- 
priate pursuit  and  charm ! 

The  hours  waned ;  still  Maltravers  stirred  not,  nor 
were  his  meditations  disturbed,  except  by  occasional 
ejaculations  from  the  four  old  gentlemen,  as  between 
each  deal  they  moralized  over  the  caprices  of  the  cards. 

At  length,  close  beside  him  he  heard  that  voice,  the 
lightest  sound  of  which  could  send  the  blood  rushing 
through  his  veins ;  and  from  his  retreat  he  saw  Caroline 
and  Evelyn,  seated  close  by. 

"I  beg  pardon,"  said  the  former,  in  a  low  voice, — ■ 
"I  beg  pardon,  Evelyn,  for  calling  you  away;  but  I 
longed  to  tell  you.  The  die  is  cast.  Lord  Doltimore 
has  proposed,  and  I  have  accepted  him!  Alas,  alas!  I 
half  wish  I  could  retract!  " 

"Dearest  Caroline,"  said  the  silver  voice  of  Evelyn, 
"for  Heaven's  sake,  do  not  thus  wantonly  resolve  on 
your  own  unhappiness!  You  wrong  yourself,  Caroline! 
you  do,  indeed!  You  are  not  the  vain,  ambitious 
character  you  affect  to  be!  Ah!  what  is  it  you  require? 
Wealth?  —  are  you  not  my  friend?  Am  not  I  rich 
enough  for  both?  Rank?  —  what  can  it  give  you  to 
compensate  for  the  misery  of  a  union  without  love  ? 
Pray  forgive  me  for  speaking  thus;  do  not  think  me 
presumptuous  or  romantic,  but  indeed,  indeed,  I  know 
from  my  own  heart  what  yours  must  undergo !  " 

Caroline  pressed  her  friend's  hand  with  emotion. 

"You  are  a  bad  comforter,  Evelyn:  my  mother,  my 
father,  will  preach  a  very  different  doctrine.  I  am 
foolish,  indeed,  to  be  so  sad  in  obtaining  the  very  ob- 
j'!ct  I  have  sought.  Poor  Doltimore!  —  he  little  knows 
the  nature,  the  feelings  of  her  whom  he  thinks  he  has 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  277 

made  the  happiest  of  her  sex  —  he  little  knows  —  " 
Caroline  paused,  turned  pale  as  death,  and  then  went 
rapitUy  on:  "But  you,  Evelyn,  you  will  meet  the  same 
fate;  we  shall  bear  it  together." 

"  No!  no!  Do  not  think  so!  Where  I  give  my  hand, 
there  shall  I  give  my  heart. " 

At  this  time  Maltravers  half  rose,  and  sighed  audibly. 

"  Hush!  "  said  Caroline,  in  alarm.  At  the  same  mo- 
ment, the  whist-table  broke  up,  and  Cleveland  ap- 
proached Maltravers. 

"  I  am  at  your  service,"  said  he;  "I  know  you  will 
not  stay  the  supper.  You  will  find  me  in  the  next 
room;  I  am  just  going  to  speak  to  Lord  Saxingham." 
The  gallant  old  gentleman  then  paid  a  compliment  to 
the  young  ladies,  and  walked  away. 

"  So  you  too  are  a  deserter  from  the  ball-room!  "  said 
Miss  Merton  to  Maltravers  as  she  rose. 

"  I  am  not  very  well ;  but  do  not  let  me  frighten  you 
away." 

"  Oh,  no!  I  hear  the  music,  —  it  is  the  last  quadrille 
before  supper,  —  and  here  is  my  fortunate  partner  look- 
ing for  me." 

"  I  have  been  everywhere  in  search  of  you,"  said  Lord 
Doltimore,  in  an  accent  of  tender  reproach;  "come,  we 
are  almost  too  late  now." 

Caroline  put  her  arm  into  Lord  Doltimore's,  who 
hurried  her  into  the  ball-room. 

Miss  Cameron  looked  irresolute  whether  or  not  to 
follow,  when  Maltravers  seated  himself  beside  her;  and 
the  paleness  of  his  brow,  and  something  that  bespoke 
pain  in  the  compressed  lip,  went  at  once  to  her  heart. 
In  her  childlike  tenderness,  she  would  have  given 
worlds  for  the  sister's  privilege  of  sympathy  and  sooth- 
ing.    The  room  was  now  deserted,  —  they  were  alone. 


278  ALICE  ;  OK,   THE    MYSTERIES. 

The  words  that  he  had  overheard  from  Evelyn's  lips, 
"  Where  I  shall  give  my  hand,  there  shall  I  give  my 
heart,"  iVIaltravers  interpreted  but  in  cue  sense, — 
"  she  loved  her  betrothed !  "  And  strange  as  it  may 
seem,  at  that  thought  which  put  the  last  seal  upon  his 
fate,  selfish  anguish  was  less  felt  than  deep  compassion. 
So  young,  so  courted,  so  tempted  as  she  must  be,  and 
with  such  a  protector! — the  cold,  the  unsympathizing, 
the  heartless  Vargrave.  She  too,  whose  feelings,  so 
warm,  ever  trembled  on  her  lip  and  eye.  Oh,  when 
she  awoke  from  her  dream,  and  knew  whom  she  had 
loved,  what  might  be  her  destiny,  —  what  her  danger! 

"  Miss  Cameron,"  said  Maltravers,  "  let  me  for  one 
moment  detain  you;  I  will  not  trespass  long.  May  I 
once,  and  for  the  last  time,  assume  the  austere  rights  of 
friendship?  I  have  seen  much  of  life,  Miss  Cameron, 
and  my  experience  has  been  purchased  dearly;  and, 
harsh  and  hermit-like  as  I  may  have  grown,  I  have  not 
outlived  such  feelings  as  you  are  well  formed  to  excite. 
Nay  "  (and  ^laltravers  smiled  sadly),  "  I  am  not  about 
to  compliment  or  flatter.  I  speak  not  to  you  as  the 
young  to  the  young;  the  difference  of  our  years,  that 
takes  away  sweetness  from  flattery,  leaves  still  sincerity 
to  friendship.  You  have  inspired  me  with  a  deep  in- 
terest,—  deeper  than  I  thought  tliat  living  beauty  could 
ever  rouse  in  me  again.  It  may  be  that  something  in 
the  tone  of  your  voice,  your  manner,  —  a  nameless  grace 
that  I  cannot  define,  —  reminds  me  of  one  whom  I  knew 
in  youth ;  one  who  had  not  your  advantages  of  educa- 
tion, wealth,  birth,  but  to  whom  Nature  was  more  kind 
than  Fortune.'' 

He  paused  a  moment,  and  without  looking  towards 
Evelyn,   thus  renewed:  — 

"  You   are    entering    life    under    brilliant    auspices. 


ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  279 

Ah !  let  me  hojie  that  the  noonday  will  keep  the  promise 
of  the  dawn!  You  are  susceptible,  imaginative;  do 
not  demand  too  much,  or  dream  too  fondly.  When  you 
are  wedded,  do  not  imagine  that  wedded  life  is  exempt 
from  its  trials  and  its  cares;  if  you  know  yourself  be- 
loved,—  and  beloved  you  must  be, — do  not  ask  from 
the  busy  and  anxious  spirit  of  man  all  which  ro- 
mance promises  and  life  but  rarely  yields.  And  oh," 
continued  Maltravers,  with  an  absorbing  and  earnest 
passion,  that  poured  forth  its  language  with  almost 
breathless  rapidity,  "if  ever  your  heart  rebels,  —  if 
ever  it  be  dissatisfied,  —  fly  the  false  sentiment  as  a  sin! 
Thrown,  as  from  your  rank  you  must  be,  on  a  world  of 
a  thousand  perils,  with  no  guide  so  constant  and  so  safe 
as  your  own  innocence,  —  make  not  that  world  too  dear 
a  friend.  Were  it  possible  that  your  own  home  ever 
could  be  lonely  or  unhappy,  reflect  that  to  woman  the 
unhappiest  home  is  liappier  than  all  excitement  abroad. 
You  will  have  a  thousand  suitors  hereafter:  believe  that 
the  asp  lurks  under  the  flatterer's  tongue,  and  resolve, 
come  what  may,  to  be  contented  with  your  lot.  How 
many  have  I  known,  lovely  and  pure  as  you,  who  have 
sufi"ered  the  very  afi'ections  —  the  very  beauty  of  their 
nature  —  to  destroy  tliem!  Listen  to  me  as  a  warner, 
as  a  brother,  as  a  pilot  who  has  passed  the  seas  on  which 
your  vessel  is  about  to  launch.  And  ever  —  ever  let 
me  know,  in  whatever  lands  your  name  may  reach  me, 
that  one  who  has  brought  back  to  me  all  my  faith  in 
human  excellence,  while  the  idol  of  our  sex,  is  the  glory 
of  her  own.  Forgive  me  this  strange  impertinence ;  my 
heart  is  full,  and  has  overflowed.  And  now,  ]\Iis3 
Cameron,  —  Evelyn  Cameron,  —  this  is  my  last  ofi"ence, 
and  my  last  farewell !  " 

He  held  out  his  hand,  and    involuntarily,  unknow- 


280  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

ingly,  she  clasped  it,  as  if  to  detain  him  till  she  could 
suminon  words  to  reply.  Suddenly  he  heard  Lord  Var- 
grave's  voice  behind:  the  spell  was  broken;  the  next 
moment  Evelyn  was  alone,  and  the  throng  swept  into 
the  room  towards  the  banquet,  and  laughter  and  gay 
voices  were  heard;  and  Lord  Vargrave  was  again  by 
Evelyn's  side. 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  281 


CHAPTER  IV. 

To  you 
This  journey  is  devoted. 

Lover's  Progress,  Act.  iv.  Sc.  1. 

As  Cleveland  and  Maltravers  returned  homeward,  the 
latter  abruptly  checked  the  cheerful  garrulity  of  his 
friend.    "  I  have  a  favor,  a  great  favor,  to  ask  of  you." 

"  And  what  is  that  ?  " 

"  Let  us  leave  Burleigh  to-morrow:  I  care  not  at  what 
hour;  we  need  go  but  two  or  three  stages  if  3'ou  are 
fatigued. " 

"  Most  hospitable  host!  and  wliy  1 " 

"  It  is  torture,  it  is  agony  to  me  to  breathe  the  air  of 
Burleigh,"  cried  Maltravers,  wildly.  "Can  you  not 
guess  my  secret?  Have  I,  then,  concealed  it  so  well? 
I  love,  I  adore  Evelyn  Cameron,  and  she  is  betrothed 
to  —  she  loves  —  another !  " 

Mr.  Cleveland  was  breathless  with  amaze ;  Maltravers 
had  indeed  so  well  concealed  his  secret;  and  now  his 
emotion  was  so  impetuous  that  it  startled  and  alarmed 
the  old  man,  who  had  never  himself  experienced  a  pas- 
sion, though  he  had  indulged  a  sentiment.  He  sought 
to  console  and  soothe ;  but  after  the  first  burst  of  agony , 
Maltravers  recovered  himself,  and  said  gently,  — 

"  Let  us  never  return  to  this  subject  again:  it  is  right 
that  I  should  conquer  this  madness,  and  conquer  it  I 
will!  Now  you  know  my  weakness,  you  will  indulge 
it.     My  cure  cannot  commence  until   I  can  no   longer 


282  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

see  from  my  casements  the  very  roof  that  shelters  the 
affianced  bride  of  another." 

"  Certainly,  then,  we  will  set  off  to-morrow.  My  poor 
friend !  is  it  indeed  —  " 

"Ah,  cease,"  interrupted  the  proud  man;  "no  com- 
passion, I  implore.  Give  me  but  time  and  silence; 
they  are  the  only  remedies." 

Before  noon  the  next  day,  Burleigh  was  once  more 
deserted  by  its  lord.  As  the  carriage  drove  through  the 
village,  Mrs.  Elton  saw  it  from  her  open  window.  But 
her  patron,  too  absorbed  at  that  hour,  even  for  benevo- 
lence, forgot  her  existence;  and  yet  so  complicated  are 
the  webs  of  fate,  that  in  the  breast  of  that  lowly 
stranger  was  locked  a  secret  of  the  most  vital  moment 
to  Maltravers. 

"  Where  is  he  going  1  Where  is  the  squire  going  ?  " 
asked  Mrs.  Elton,  anxiously. 

"  Dear  heart !  "  said  the  cottager,  "  they  do  say  he  be 
going  for  a  short  time  to  foren  parts.  But  he  will  be 
back  at  Christmas." 

"  And  at  Christmas  I  may  be  gone  hence  forever," 
muttered  the  invalid.  "  But  what  will  that  matter  to 
him,  —  to  any  one?  " 

At  the  first  stage  Maltravers  and  his  friend  were 
detained  a  short  time  for  the  want  of  horses.  Lord 
Kaby's  house  had  been  filled  with  guests  on  the  preced- 
ing night,  and  the  stables  of  this  little  inn,  dignified 
with  the  sign  of  the  llaby  Arms,  and  about  two  miles 
distant  from  the  great  man's  place,  had  been  exhausted 
by  numerous  claimants  returning  homeward  from  Knares- 
dean.  It  was  a  quiet,  solitary  post-house,  and  patience, 
till  some  jaded  horses  should  return,  was  the  only 
remedy;  the  host,  assuring  the  travellers  that  he  ex- 
pected four  horses  every  moment,  invited  them  within. 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   iMYSTEHIES.  283 

The  morning  was  cold,  and  the  fire  not  unacceptable  to 
Mr.  Cleveland;  so  they  went  into  the  little  parlor. 
Here  they  found  an  elderly  gentleman  of  very  prepos- 
sessing appearance,  who  was  waiting  for  the  same  object. 
He  moved  courteously  from  the  fireplace  as  the  travel- 
lers entered,  and  pushed  the  B shire  "Chronicle" 

towards  Cleveland ;  Cleveland  bowed  urbanely.  "  A 
cold  day,  sir;  the  autumn  begins  to  show  itself." 

"It  is  true,  sir,"  answered  the  old  gentleman;  "and 
I  feel  the  cold  the  more,  having  just  quitted  the  genial 
atmosphere  of  the  south." 

«  Of  Italy  ?  " 

"  No,  of  England  only.  I  see  by  this  paper  (I  am 
not  much  of  a  politician)  that  there  is  a  chance  of  a 
dissolution  of  Parliament,  and  that  Mr.  Maltravers  is 
likely  to  come  forward  for  this  county.  Are  you  ac- 
quainted with  him,  sir?" 

"  A  little,"  said  Cleveland,  smiling. 

"  He  is  a  man  I  am  much  interested  in,"  said  the  old 
gentleman ;  "  and  I  hope  soon  to  be  honored  with  his 
acquaintance. " 

"  Indeed !  and  you  are  going  into  his  neighbor- 
hood?" asked  Cleveland,  looking  more  attentively  at 
the  stranger,  and  much  pleased  with  a  certain  simple 
candor  in  his  countenance  and  manner. 

"  Yes ;  to  Merton  Rectory. " 

Maltravers,  who  had  been  hitherto  stationed  by  the 
window,  turned  round. 

"  To  Merton  Rectory  ?  "  repeated  Cleveland.  "  You 
are  acquainted  with  Mr.   Merton,  then?" 

"Not  yet;  but  I  know  some  of  his  family.  How- 
ever, my  visit  is  rather  to  a  young  lady  who  is  staying 
at  the  Rectory,  —  i\Iiss  Cameron." 

Maltravers   sighed  heavily;    and  the   old    gentleman 


284  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

looked  at  him  curiously.  "  Perhaps,  sir,  if  you  know 
that  neighborhood,  you  may  have  seen  — " 

"  Miss  Cameron !  Certainly ;  it  is  an  honor  not  easily 
forgotten. " 

The  old  gentleman  looked  pleased. 

"  The  dear  child !  "  said  he ,  with  a  burst  of  honest 
affection;  and  he  passed  his  hand  over  his  eyes.  Mal- 
travers  drew  near  to  him. 

"  You  know  Miss  Cameron  ?  You  are  to  be  envied, 
sir,"  said  he. 

"I  have  known  her  since  she  was  a  child;  Lady 
Vargrave  is  my  dearest  friend." 

"  Lady  Vargrave  must  be  worthy  of  such  a  daughter. 
Only  under  the  light  of  a  sweet  disposition  and  pure 
heart  could  that  beautiful  nature  have  been  trained  and 
reared. " 

Maltravers  spoke  with  enthusiasm,  and  as  if  fearful 
to  trust  himself  more,   left  the  room, 

"  That  gentleman  speaks  not  more  warmly  than 
justly,"  said  the  old  man,  with  some  surprise.  "  He 
has  a  countenance  which,  if  physiognomy  be  a  true 
science,  declares  his  praise  to  be  no  common  compli- 
ment.    May  I  inquire  his  name?" 

"  Maltravers,"  replied  Cleveland,  a  little  vain  of  the 
eflfect  his  ex-pupil's  name  was  to  produce. 

The  curate  —  for  it  was  he  —  started  and  changed 
countenance. 

"  Maltravers :  but  he  is  not  about  to  leave  the  county  ?  " 

"  Yes;  for  a  few  months." 

Here  the  host  entered.  Four  horses  that  had  been 
only  fourteen  miles  had  just  re-entered  the  yard.  If 
Mr.  Maltravers  could  spare  two  to  that  gentleman,  who 
had,  indeed,  pre-engaged  them? 

"  Certainly,"  said  Cleveland;  "  but  be  quick.'" 


ALICE;    OR,    THE    MYSTERIES.  285 

"  And  is  Lord  Vargrave  still  at  Mr.  Merton's?  "  asked 
the  curate,  musingly. 

"  Oh,  yes;  I  believe  so.  Miss  Cameron  is  to  be  mar- 
ried to  him  very  sliortly ;  is  it  not  so  1  " 

"I  cannot  say,"  returned  Aubrey,  rather  bewildered. 
"  You  know  Lord  Vargrave,  sir  ?  " 

"  Extremely  well !  " 

"  And  you  think  him  worthy  of  Miss  Cameron  ?  " 

"  That  is  a  question  for  her  to  answer.  But  I  see  the 
horses  are  put  to.  Good-day,  sir.  Will  you  tell  your 
fair  young  friend  that  you  have  met  an  old  gentleman 
who  wishes  her  all  happiness;  and  if  she  ask  you  his 
name,  say  Cleveland?  " 

So  saying,  Mr.  Cleveland  bowed,  and  re-entered  the 
carriage.  But  Maltravers  was  yet  missing.  In  fact,  he 
returned  to  the  house  by  the  back  way,  and  Avent  once 
more  into  the  little  parlor.  It  was  something  to  see 
again  one  who  would  so  soon   see  Evelyn. 

"If  I  mistake  not,"  said  Maltravers,  "you  are  that 
Mr.  Aubrey  on  whose  virtues  I  have  often  heard  Miss 
Cameron  delight  to  linger?  Will  you  believe  my  regret 
that  our  acquaintance  is  now  so  brief  ?  " 

As  Maltravers  spoke  thus  simply,  there  was  in  his 
countenance,"  his  voice,  a  melancholy  sweetness,  which 
greatly  conciliated  the  good  curate.  And  as  Aubrey 
gazed  upon  his  noble  features  and  lofty  mien,  he  no 
longer  wondered  at  the  fascination  he  had  appeared  to 
exercise  over  the  young  Evelyn. 

"And  may  I  not  hope,  Mr.  Maltravers,"  said  he, 
"  that  before  long  our  acquaintance  may  be  renewed  ? 
Could  not  Miss  Cameron,"  he  added,  with  a  smile  and 
a  penetrating  look,  "  tempt  you  into  Devonshire?  " 

jMaltravers  shook  his  head,  and  muttering  something 
not  very  audible,  quitted  the  room.      The  curate   heard 


286  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

the  whirl  of  the  wheels,  and  the  host  entered  to  inform 
him  that  his  own  carriage  was  now  ready. 

"There  is  something  in  this,"  thought  Aubrey, 
"  which  I  do  not  comprehend.  His  manner,  his  trem- 
bling voice,  bespoke  emotions  he  struggled  to  con- 
ceal. Can  Lord  Vargrave  have  gained  his  point?  Is 
Evelyn,  indeed,  no  longer  free  ?  " 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  287 


CHAPTER  V. 

Certes,  c'est  un  grand  cas,  leas. 
Que  toujours  tracas  ou  fracas 
Vous  f aites  d'une  ou  d'autre  sort ; 
C'est  le  diable  qui  vous  emporte !  ^ 

VOITURE. 

Lord  Vargrave  had  passed  the  night  of  the  ball  and 
the  following  morning  at  Knaresdean.  It  was  necessary 
to  bring  the  councils  of  the  scheming  conclave  to  a  full 
and  definite  conclusion;  and  this  was  at  last  effected. 
Their  strength  numbered, — friends  and  foes  alike  can- 
vassed and  considered,  and  due  account  taken  of  the 
waverers  to  be  won  over,  —  it  really  did  seem,  even  to 
the  least  sanguine,  that  the  Saxingham,  or  Vargrave 
party,  was  one  that  might  well  aspire  either  to  dictate 
to,  or  to  break  up,  a  government.  Nothing  now  was 
left  to  consider  but  the  favorable  hour  for  action.  In 
high  spirits,  Lord  Vargrave  returned  about  the  middle 
of  the  day  to  the  Rectory. 

"  So,"  thought  he,  as  he  reclined  in  his  carriage, — 
"  so  in  politics  the  prospect  clears  as  the  sun  breaks  out. 
The  party  I  have  espoused  is  one  that  must  be  the  most 
durable ;  for  it  possesses  the  greatest  property  and  the 
most  stubborn  prejudice, — what  elements  for  party! 
All  that  I  now  require  is  a  sufficient  fortune  to  back  my 
ambition.  Kothing  can  clog  my  way  but  these  cursed 
debts,  —  this   disreputable    want    of    gold.      And    yet 

1  Certes,  it  is  the  fact,  leas,  that  you  are  always  engaged  in 
tricks  or  scrapes  of  some  sort  or  another,  —  it  must  be  the  devil 
that  bewitches  you. 


288  ALICE;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES. 

Evelyn  alarms  me!  Were  I  younger,  or  had  I  not 
made  my  position  too  soon,  I  would  marry  her  by 
fraud  or  by  force :  run  off  with  her  to  Gretna,  and  make 
Vulcan  minister  to  Plutus.  But  this  would  never  do 
at  my  years,  and  with  my  reputation.      A  pretty  story 

for    the    newspapers,    d n   them!     Well,    nothing 

venture,  nothing  have ;  I  will  brave  the  hazard !  Mean- 
while, Doltimore  is  mine:  Caroline  will  rule  him, 
and  I  rule  her.  His  vote  and  his  boroughs  are  some- 
thing; his  money  will  be  more  immediately  useful. 
I  must  do  him  the  honor  to  borrow  a  few  thousands ,  — 
Caroline  must  manage  that  for  me.  The  fool  is  miserly, 
though  a  spendthrift,  and  looked  black  when  I  deli- 
cately hinted,  the  other  day,  that  I  wanted  a  friend, — 
id  est,  a  loan!  —  money  and  friendship,  same  thing: 
distinction  without  a  difference !  "  Thus  cogitating, 
Vargrave  whiled  away  the  minutes  till  his  carriage 
stopped  at  Mr.   Merton's  door. 

As  he  entered  the  hall  he  met  Caroline,  who  had  just 
quitted  her  own  room. 

"  How  lucky  I  am  that  you  have  on  your  bonnet!  I 
long  for  a  walk  with  you  round  the  lawn." 

"  And  I,  too,  -am  glad  to  see  you.  Lord  Vargrave," 
said  Caroline,  putting  her  arm  in  his. 

"  Accept  my  best  congratulations,  my  own  sweet 
friend,"  said  Vargrave,  when  they  were  in  the  grounds. 
"  You  have  no  idea  how  happy  Doltimore  is.  He  came 
to  Knaresdean  yesterday  to  communicate  the  news,  and 
his  neckcloth  was  primer  than  ever.  —  C'est  un  bon 
enfant. " 

"Ah,  how  can  you  talk  thus?  Do  you  feel  no  pain 
at  the  thought  that  —  that  I  am  another's?" 

"  Your  heart  will  be  ever  mine,  —  and  that  is  the  true 
fidelity.     What  else,  too,  could  be  done?     As  for  Lord 


ALICE;    OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  289 

Doltimore,  we  will  go  shares  in  him.  Come,  cheer 
thee,  rn'amie;  I  rattle  on  thus  to  keep  up  your  spir- 
its.    Do  not  fancy  I  am  happy !  " 

Caroline  let  fall  a  few  tears;  hut,  heneath  the  in- 
fluence of  Vargrave's  sophistries  and  flatteries,  she 
gradually  recovered  her  usual  hard  and  worldly  tone  of 
mind. 

"  And  where  is  Evelyn  1  "  asked  Vargrave.  "  Do  you 
know  the  little  witch  seemed  to  me  half  mad  the  night 
of  the  ball :  her  head  was  turned ;  and  when  she  sat  next 
me  at  supper,  she  not  only  answered  every  question  I 
put  to  her  a  tort  et  a  traners,  but  I  fancied  every  mo- 
ment she  was  going  to  burst  out  crying.  Can  you  tell 
what  was  the  matter  with  her  1  " 

"  She  was  grieved  to  hear  that  I  was  to  be  married  to 
the  man  T  do  not  love.  Ah,  Vargrave,  she  has  more 
heart  than  you  have !  " 

"  But  she  never  fancies  that  you  love  me  ?  "  asked 
Lumley,  in  alarm.  "  You  women  are  so  confoundedly 
confidential!  " 

"  ISTo ;  she  does  not  suspect  our  secret. " 

"  Then  I  scarcely  think  your  approaching  marriage 
was  a  sufficient  cause  for  so  much  distraction." 

"  Perhaps  she  may  have  overheard  some  of  the  im- 
pertinent whispers  about  her  mother,  —  *  Who  was  Lady 
Vargrave?'  and,  '  What  Cameron  was  Lady  Vargrave's 
first  husband?'  /  overheard  a  hundred  such  vulgar 
questions;  and  provincial  people  whisper  so  loud." 

"  Ah,  that  is  a  very  probable  solution  of  the  mystery. 
And,  for  my  part,  I  am  almost  as  much  puzzled  as  any 
one  else  can  be  to  know  who  Lady  Vargrave  was. " 

"  Did  not  your  uncle  tell  you  ?  " 

"  He  told  me  that  she  was  of  no  very  elevated  birth 
and  station,  nothing  more;  and  she   herself,  with   her 

19 


290  ALICE;   OK,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

quiet,  isay-nothing  manner,  slips  through  all  my  careless 
questionings  like  an  eel.  She  is  still  a  beautiful  crea- 
ture, more  regularly  handsome  than  even  Evelyn;  and 
old  Templeton  had  a  very  sweet  tooth  at  the  back  of  his 
head,  though  he  never  opened  his  mouth  wide  enough 
to  show  it." 

"  She  must  ever  at  least  have  been  blameless,  to  judge 
by  an  air  which,  even  now,  is  more  like  that  of  a  child 
than  a  matron. " 

"  Yes;  she  has  not  much  of  tlie  widow  about  her, 
poor  soul!  But  her  education,  except  in  music,  has 
not  been  very  carefully  attended  to;  and  she  knows 
about  as  much  of  the  world  as  the  Bishop  of  Autun 
(better  known  as  Prince  Talleyrand)  knows  of  the  Bible. 
If  she  were  not  so  simple,  she  would  be  silly;  but  silli- 
ness is  never  simple,  —  always  cunning;  however,  there 
is  some  cunning  in  her  keeping  her  past  Cameronian 
Chronicles  so  close.     Perhaps  1  may  know  more  about 

her  in  a  short  time,  for  I  intend  going  to  C ,  where 

my  uncle  once  lived,  in  order  to  see  if  I  can  revive, 
under  the  rose, — since  peers  are  only  contraband  elec- 
tioneerers, — his  old  parliamentary  influence  in  that 
city;  and  they  may  tell  me  more  there  than  I  now 
know. " 

"  Did  the  late  lord  marry  at  C ?  " 

"  No ;  in  Devonshire.  I  do  not  even  know  if  Mrs. 
Cameron  ever  Avas  at  C . " 

"  You  must  be  curious  to  know  who  the  father  of  your 
intended  wife  was  1  " 

"Her  father!  No;  I  have  no  curiosity  in  that  quar- 
ter. And,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  am  much  too  busy 
about  the  present  to  be  raking  into  that  heap  of  rubbish 
we  call  the  past.  1  fancy  that  both  your  good  grand- 
mother and  that  comely  old  curate  of  Brook-Green  know 


ALICE;   OK,   THE   MYSTERIES.  291 

everything  about  Lady  Vargrave;  and  as  they  esteem 
her  so  much,  I  take  it  for  granted  that  she  is  sa?is 
tacke. " 

"  How  could  I  be  so  stupid!  —  apropos  of  the  curate, 
I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  he  is  here.  He  arrived  about 
two  hours  ago,  and  has  been  closeted  with  Evelyn  ever 
since." 

"  The  deuce!     What  brought  the  old  man  hither?  " 

"  That  I  know  not.  Papa  received  a  letter  from  him 
yesterday  morning,  to  say  that  he  would  be  here  to-day. 
Perhaps  Lady  Vargrave  thinks  it  time  for  Evelyn  to 
return  home." 

"What  am  I  to  do?"  said  Vargiave,  anxiously. 
"  Dare  I  yet  venture  to  propose  1  " 

"  I  am  sure  it  will  be  in  vain,  Vargrave.  You  must 
prepare  for  disappointment." 

"  And  ruin,"  muttered  Vargrave,  gloomily.  "  Hark 
you,  Caroline:  she  may  refuse  me  if  she  pleases;  but 
I  am  not  a  man  to  be  baffled.  Have  her  I  will,  by  one 
means  or  another:  revenge  urges  me  to  it  almost  as  much 
as  ambition.  That  girl's  thread  of  life  has  been  the 
dark  line  in  my  woof:  she  has  robbed  me  of  fortune; 
she  now  thwarts  me  in  my  career;  she  humbles  me  in 
my  vanity.  But,  like  a  hound  that  has  tasted  blood, 
I  will  run  her  down,  whatever  winding  she  takes!  " 

"  Vargrave,  you  terrify  me!  Keflect;  we  do  not  live 
in  an  age  when  violence  —  " 

"Tush!"  interrupted  Lumley,  with  one  of  those 
dark  looks  which  at  times,  though  very  rarely,  swept 
away  all  its  customary  character  from  that  smooth, 
shrewd  countenance.  "Tush!  we  live  in  an  age  as 
favorable  to  intellect  and  to  energy  as  ever  was  painted 
in  romance.  I  have  that  faith  in  fortune  and  myself 
that  I   tell   you,   with  a  prophet's  vo'ce,  that  Evelyn 


292  ALICE  ;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES. 

shall  fulfil  the  wish  of  my  dying  uncle.     But  the  hell 
summons  us  hack." 

On  returning  to  the  house,  Lord  Vargrave's  valet 
gave  him  a  letter  which  had  arrived  that  morning.  It 
was  from  Mr.   Gustavus  Douce ,  and  ran  thus :  — 

Fleet  Street, 20th,  18 — . 

My  Lord,  —  It  is  with  the  greatest  regret  that  I  apprise 
you,  for  Self  &  Co.,  that  we  shall  not  be  able,  in  the  present 
state  of  the  money  market,  to  renew  your  lordship's  bill  for 
^10,000,  due  the  28th  instant.  Respectfully  calling  your 
lorrlship's  attention  to  same,  I  have  the  honor  to  be,  for  Self  & 
Co.,  my  lord,  your  lordship's  most  obedient  and  most  obliged 
humble  servant, 

Gustavus  Douce. 

To  the  Right  Hon.  the  Lord  Vargrave,  &c.,  &c. 

This  letter  sharpened  Lord  Vargrave's  anxiety  and 
resolve;  nay,  it  seemed  almost  to  sharpen  his  sharp 
features  as  he  muttered  sundry  denunciations  on  Messrs. 
Douce  &  Co. ,  while  arranging  his  neckcloth  at  the 
glass. 


ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  293 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Sol.  Why,  please  your  honorable  lordship,  we  were  talking  here 
and  tliere,  —  this  and  that.  —  The  Stranger. 

Aubrey  had  been  closeted  with  Evelyn  the  whole 
morning;  and  simultaneous  with  his  arrival,  came  to 
her  the  news  of  the  departure  of  Maltravers :  it  was  an 
intelligence  that  greatly  agitated  and  unnerved  her;  and 
coupling  that  event  with  his  solemn  words  on  the  pre- 
vious night,  Evelyn  asked  herself,  in  wonder,  what  sen- 
timents she  could  have  inspired  in  Maltravers  1  Could 
he  love  her?  —  her,  so  young,  so  inferior,  so  un- 
informed! Impossible!  Alas,  alas,  for  Maltravers! 
His  genius,  his  gifts,  his  towering  qualities, — all  that 
won  the  admiration,  almost  the  awe,  of  Evelyn,  — 
placed  him  at  a  distance  from  her  heart!  When  she 
asked  herself  if  he  loved  her,  she  did  not  ask,  even  in 
that  hour,  if  she  loved  him.  But  even  the  question 
she  did  ask,  her  judgment  answered  erringly  in  the 
negative,  Why  should  he  love,  and  yet  fly  her?  She 
understood  not  his  high-wrought  scruples,  his  self- 
deluding  belief.  Aubrey  was  more  puzzled  than  en- 
lightened by  his  conversation  with  his  pupil;  only  one 
thing  seemed  certain,  —  her  delight  to  return  to  the 
cottage  and  her  mother. 

Evelyn  could  not  sufficiently  recover  her  composure 
to  mix  with  the  party  below;  and  Aubrey,  at  the  sound 
of  the  second  dinner-bell,  left  her  to  solitude,  and  bore 
her  excuses  to  Mrs.  Merton. 

"  Dear  me !  "  said  that  worthy  lady ;  "  I  am  so  sorry. 
I  thought  Miss  Cameron  looked  fatigued  at  breakfast; 


294  ALICE;   OR,    THE    MYSTERIES. 

and  there  was  something  hysterical  in  her  spirits;  and 
I  suppose  the  surprise  of  your  arrival  has  upset  her. 
Caroline,  my  dear,  you  had  better  go  and  see  Avhat  she 
would  like  to  have  taken  up  to  her  room,  — a  little  soup 
and  the  wing  of  a  chicken. " 

"My  dear,"  said  ]\Ir.  IVlerton,  rather  pompously,  "  I 
think  it  would  be  but  a  proper  respect  to  Miss  Cameron 
if  you  yourself  accompanied  Caroline." 

"I  assure  you,"  said  the  curate,  alarmed  at  the  ava- 
lanche of  politeness  that  threatened  poor  Evelyn,  —  "I 
assure  you  that  Miss  Cameron  would  prefer  being  left 
alone  at  present;  as  you  say,  Mrs.  Merton,  her  spirits 
are  rather  agitated." 

But  Mrs.  Merton,  with  a  sliding  bow,  had  already 
quitted  the  room,  and  Caroline  with  her. 

"Come  back,  Sophy!  Cecilia,  come  back!"  said 
Mr.   Merton,  settling  his  jabot. 

"  Oh,  dear  Evy !  —  poor  dear  Evy !  Evy  is  ill !  "  said 
Sophy;  "  I  may  go  to  Evy!     I  must  go,  papa!  " 

"No,  my  dear,  you  are  too  noisy;  these  children  are 
quite  spoiled,  Mr.  Aubrey." 

The  old  man  looked  at  them  benevolently,  and  drew 
them  to  his  knee;  and  while  Cissy  stroked  his  long 
white  hair,  and  Sophy  ran  on  about  dear  Evy's  pretti- 
ness  and  goodness,  Lord  Vargrave  sauntered  into  the 
room. 

On  seeing  the  curate,  his  frank  face  lighted  up  with 
surprise  and  pleasure;  he  hastened  to  him,  seized  him 
by  both  hands,  expressed  the  most  heartfelt  delight  at 
seeing  him,  inquired  tenderly  after  Lady  Vargrave,  and 
not  till  he  was  out  of  breath,  and  Mrs.  Merton  and 
Caroline  returning  apprised  him  of  Miss  Cameron's 
indisposition,  did  his  rapture  vanish;  and  as  a  mo- 
ment before  he  was  all  joy,  so  now  he  was  all  sorrow. 


ALICE;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES.  295 

The  dinner  passed  off  dully  enough;  the  children, 
readmitted  to  dessert,  made  a  little  relief  to  all  parties ; 
and  when  they  and  the  two  ladies  went,  Aubrey  himself 
quickly  rose  to  join  Evelyn. 

"  Are  you  going  to  Miss  Cameron  ?  "  said  Lord  Var- 
grave ;  "  pray  say  how  unhappy  I  feel  at  her  illness.  I 
think  these  grapes  —  they  are  very  fine  —  could  not  hurt 
her.  May  I  ask  you  to  present  them  with  my  best  — 
best  and  most  anxious  regards  ?  I  shall  be  so  uneasy 
till  you  return.  Xow,  Merton  "  (as  the  door  closed  on 
the  curate) ,  "  let 's  have  another  bottle  of  this  famous 
claret!     Droll  old  fellow,  that,  —  quite  a  character!  " 

"  He  is  a  great  favorite  with  Lady  Vargrave  and  Miss 
Cameron,  T  believe,"  said  Mr.  Merton.  "  A  mere  vil- 
lage priest,  I  suppose ;  no  talent,  no  energy,  or  he  could 
not  be  a  curate  at  that  age." 

"  Very  true ;  a  shrewd  remark.  The  church  is  as  good 
a  profession  as  any  other  for  getting  on,  if  a  man  has 
anything  in  him.      I  shall  live  to  see  you  a  bishop!  " 

Mr.  Merton  shook  his  head. 

"Yes,  I  shall,  though  you  have  hitherto  disdained  to 
exhibit  any  one  of  the  three  orthodox  qualifications  for 
a  mitre." 

"  And  what  are  they,  my  lord?  " 

"  Editing  a  Greek  play,  writing  a  political  pamphlet, 
and  apostatizing  at  the  proper  moment. " 

"Ha!  ha!  your  lordship  is  severe  on  us." 

"  !N"ot  I ;  I  often  wish  I  had  been  brought  up  to  the 
church, — famous  profession,  properly  understood.  By 
Jupiter,  I  should  have  been  a  capital  bishop!  " 

In  his  capacity  of  parson,  Mr.  Merton  tried  to  look 
grave;  in  his  capacity  of  a  gentlemanlike,  liberal  fellow, 
he  gave  up  the  attempt,  and  laughed  pleasantly  at  the 
joke  of  the  rising  man. 


296  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

"Will  nothing  please  you  1 

What  do  you  think  of  the  Court  ? 

The  Plain  Dealer. 

On  one  subject,  Aubrey  found  no  difficulty  in  ascertain- 
ing Evelyn's  wishes  and  condition  of  mind.  The  ex- 
periment of  her  visit,  so  far  as  Vargrave's  hopes  were 
concerned,  had  utterly  failed :  she  could  not  contemplate 
the  prospect  of  his  alliance,  and  she  poured  out  to  the 
curate,  frankly  and  fully,  all  her  desire  to  effect  a  re- 
lease from  her  engagement.  As  it  was  now  settled  that 
she  should  return  with  Aubrey  to  Brook-Green,  it  was 
indeed  necessary  to  come  to  the  long-delayed  under- 
standing with  her  betrothed.  Yet  this  was  difficult, 
for  he  had  so  little  pressed  —  so  distantly  alluded  to — • 
their  engagement,  that  it  was  like  a  forwardness,  an 
indelicacy  in  Evelyn,  to  forestall  the  longed-for,  yet 
dreaded  explanation.  This,  however,  Aubrey  took 
upon  himself;  and  at  this  promise  Evelyn  felt  as  the 
slave  may  feel  when  the  chain  is  stricken  off. 

At  breakfast,  Mr.  Aubrey  communicated  to  the  Mer- 
tons  Evelyn's  intention  to  return  with  him  to  Brook- 
Green,  on  the  following  day.  Lord  Vargrave  started, 
bit  his  lip,  but  said  nothing. 

Not  so  silent  was  Mr.  Merton :  — 

"Return  with  you!  my  dear  Mr.  Aubrey,  just  con- 
sider; it  is  impossible.  You  see  Miss  Cameron's 
rank  of  life,  her  position;  so  very  strange;  no  ser- 
vants  of   her   own    here   but   her  woman;   no  carriage 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  297 

even!  You  would  not  have  her  travel  in  a  post-chaise, 
—  such  a  long  journey!  Lord  Vargrave,  you  can  never 
consent  to  that,  I  am  sure?  " 

"  Were  it  only  as  Miss  Cameron's  guardian"  said 
Lord  Vargrave,  pointedly,  "  I  should  certainly  object  to 
such  a  mode  of  performing  such  a  journey.  Perhaps 
Mr.  Aubrey  means  to  perfect  the  project  by  taking  two 
outside  places  on  the  top  of  the  coach  ?  " 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  the  curate,  mildly,  "but  I  am  not 
so  ignorant  of  what  is  due  to  Miss  Cameron  as  you  sup- 
pose. Lady  Vargrave 's  carriage,  which  brought  me 
hither,  will  be  no  unsuitable  vehicle  for  Lady  Var- 
grave's  daughter;  and  Miss  Cameron  is  not,  I  trust, 
quite  so  spoilt  by  all  your  friendly  attentions,  as  to  be 
unable  to  perform  a  journey  of  two  days  with  no  other 
protector  than  myself." 

"  I  forgot  Lady  Vargrave 's  carriage,  or  rather  I  was 
not  aware  that  you  had  used  it,  my  dear  sir,"  said  Mr. 
Merton.  "  But  you  must  not  blame  us  if  we  are  sorry 
to  lose  Miss  Cameron  so  suddenly :  I  was  in  hopes  that 
you  too  would  stay  at  least  a  week  with  us." 

The  curate  bowed  at  the  rector's  condescending  polite- 
ness; and  just  as  he  was  about  to  answer,  Mrs.  Merton 
put  in,  — 

"  And  you  see  I  had  set  my  heart  on  her  being  Caro- 
line's bridesmaid." 

Caroline  turned  pale,  and  glanced  at  Vargrave,  who 
appeared  solely  absorbed  in  breaking  toast  into  his 
tea,  —  a  delicacy  he  had  never  before  been  known  to 
favor. 

There  was  an  awkward  pause ;  the  servant  opportunely 
entered  with  a  small  parcel  of  books,  a  note  to  !Mr. 
Merton,  and  that  most  blessed  of  all  blessed  things  in 
the  country,  the  letter-bag. 


298  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

"What  is  this?"  said  the  rector,  opening  his  note, 
while  Mrs.  Merton  unlocked  the  bag  and  dispensed  the 
contents.  "  Left  Burleigh  for  some  months  —  a  day  or 
two  sooner  than  he  had  expected  —  excuse  French  leave- 
taking  —  return  Miss  Merton 's  books  —  much  obliged  — 
gamekeeper  has  orders  to  place  the  Burleigh  pre.serves  at 
my  disposal.     So  we  have  lost  our  neighbor !  " 

"  Did  you  not  know  jVIr.  Maltravers  was  gone  1  "  said 
Caroline.  "I  heard  so  from  Jenkins  last  night;  he 
accompanies  Mr.  Cleveland  to  Paris." 

"Indeed!"  said  Mrs.  Merton,  opening  her  eyes, 
"  What  could  take  him  to  Paris  1  " 

"Pleasure,  I  suppose,"  answered  Caroline.  "I'm 
sure  I  should  rather  have  wondered  what  could  detain 
him  at  Burleigh." 

Vargrave  was  all  this  while  breaking  open  seals,  and 
running  his  eyes  over  sundry  scrawls  with  the  practised 
rapidity  of  the  man  of  business.  He  came  to  the  last 
letter;  his  countenance  brightened, — 

"  Koyal  invitation,  or  rather  command,  to  Windsor," 
he  cried.  "  I  am  afraid  I  too  must  leave  you,  this 
very  day." 

"Bless  me!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Merton;  "  is  that  from 
the  king?     Do  let  me  see!  " 

"  Not  exactly  from  the  king;  the  same  thing,  though ;  " 
and  Lord  Vargrave,  carelessly  pushing  the  gracious  com- 
munication towards  the  impatient  hand  and  loyal  gaze 
of  Mrs.  Merton,  carefully  put  the  other  letters  in  his 
pocket,  and  walked  musingly  to  the  window. 

Aubrey  seized  the  opportunity  to  approach  him. 
"My  lord,  can  I  speak  with  you  a  few  moments?" 

"Me!  certainly.  Will  you  come  to  my  dressing- 
room  1  " 


ALICE;   OK,   THE   MYSTERIES,  299 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

There  was  never 
Poor  gentleman  had  such  a  sudden  fortune. 

Beaumont  and  Fletcher  :  The  Captain,  Act  v.  Sc.  5. 

"  My  lord,"  said  the  curate,  as  Vargrave,  leaning  back 
in  his  chair,  appeared  to  examine  the  shape  of  his  boots, 
while,  in  reality,  "  his  sidelong  looks,"  not  "of  love," 
were  fixed  upon  his  companion,  "  I  need  scarcely  refer 
to  the  wish  of  the  late  lord,  your  uncle,  relative  to  Miss 
Cameron  and  yourself;  nor  need  I,  to  one  of  a  generous 
spirit,  add  that  an  engagement  could  be  only  so  far 
binding  as  both  the  parties  whose  happiness  it  con- 
cerned should  be  willing  in  proper  time  and  season  to 
fulfil  it." 

"Sir,"  said  Vargrave,  impatiently  waving  his  hand, 
and,  in  his  irritable  surmise  of  what  was  to  come,  losing 
his  habitual  self-control,  —  "I  know  not  what  all  this  has 
to  do  with  you;  surely  you  trespass  upon  ground  sacred 
to  Miss  Cameron  and  myself.  Whatever  you  have  to 
say,  let  me  beg  you  to  come  at  once  to  the  point." 

"  My  lord,  I  will  obey  you.  Miss  Cameron  —  and,  I 
may  add,  with  Lady  Vargrave's  consent — -deputes  ma 
to  say  that,  although  she  feels  compelled  to  decline  the 
honor  of  your  lordship's  alliance,  yet  if  in  any  arrange- 
ment of  the  fortune  bequeathed  to  her  she  could  testify 
to  you,  my  lord,  her  respect  and  friendship,  it  would 
afi'ord  her  the  most  sincere  gratification. " 

Lord  Vargrave  started. 


300  ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

"Sir,"  said  he,  "I  know  not  if  I  am  to  thank  you 
for  this  information, — the  announcement  of  which  so 
strangely  coincides  with  your  arrival.  But  allow  me 
to  say  that  there  needs  no  ambassador  between  Miss 
Cameron  and  myself.  It  is  due,  sir,  to  my  station,  to 
my  relationship,  to  my  character  of  guardian,  to  my  long 
and  faithful  affection,  to  all  considerations  which  men 
of  the  world  understand,  which  men  of  feeling  sympa- 
thize with,  to  receive  from  Miss  Cameron  alone  the 
rejection  of  my  suit!  " 

"  Unquestionably  Miss  Cameron  will  grant  your  lord- 
ship the  interview  you  have  a  right  to  seek ;  but  par- 
don me,  I  thought  it  might  save  you  both  much 
pain  if  the  meeting  were  prepared  by  a  third  person; 
and  on  any  matter  of  business,  any  atonement  to  your 
lordship  —  " 

"Atonement!  —  what  can  atone  to  me?"  exclaimed 
Vargrave,  as  he  walked  to  and  fro  the  room  in  great 
disorder  and  excitement.  "  Can  you  give  me  back 
years  of  hope  and  expectancy,  —  the  manhood  wasted 
in  a  vain  dream?  Had  T  not  been  taught  to  look  to 
this  reward,  should  I  have  rejected  all  occasion  —  while 
my  youth  was  not  yet  all  gone,  while  my  heart  was  not 
yet  all  occupied  —  to  form  a  suitable  alliance  ?  Nay, 
should  I  have  indulged  in  a  high  and  stirring  career, 
for  which  my  own  fortune  is  by  no  means  qualified? 
Atonement!  — atonement!  Talk  of  atonement  to  boys! 
Sir,  I  stand  before  you  a  man  whose  private  happiness 
is  blighted,  whose  public  prospects  are  darkened,  life 
wa.sted,  fortunes  ruined,  the  schemes  of  an  existence 
built  upon  one  hope,  which  was  lawfully  indulged, 
overthrown! — and  you  talk  to  me  of  atonement!" 

Selfish  as  the  nature  of  this  complaint  might  be, 
Aubrey  was  struck  with  its  justice. 


ALICE  ;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES.  301 

"  My  lord,"  said  he,  a  little  embarrassed,  "  I  cannot 
deny  that  there  is  truth  in  much  of  what  you  say. 
Alas!  it  proves  how  vain  it  is  for  man  to  calculate  on 
the  future,  how  unhappily  your  uncle  erred  in  imposing 
conditions  which  the  chances  of  life  and  the  caprices  of 
affection  could  at  any  time  dissolve!  But  this  is  blame 
that  attaches  only  to  the  dead.  Can  you  blame  the 
living  1  " 

"  Sir,  I  considered  myself  bound  by  my  uncle's  prayer 
to  keep  my  hand  and  heart  disengaged,  that  this  title  — 
miserable  and  barren  distinction  though  it  be!  —  might, 
as  he  so  ardently  desired,  descend  to  Evelyn.  I  had  a 
right  to  expect  similar  honor  upon  her  side !  " 

"  Surely,  my  lord,  you,  to  whom  the  late  lord  on  his 
deathbed  confided  all  the  motives  of  his  conduct  and  the 
secret  of  his  life,  cannot  but  be  aware  that  while  de- 
sirous of  promoting  your  worldly  welfare,  and  uniting 
in  one  line  his  rank  and  his  fortune,  your  uncle  still 
had  Evelyn's  happiness  at  heart  as  his  warmest  wish; 
you  must  know  that  if  that  happiness  were  forfeited  by 
a  marriage  with  you,  the  marriage  became  but  a  sec- 
ondary consideration.  Lord  Vargrave's  will  in  itself 
was  a  proof  of  this.  He  did  not  impose  as  an  absolute 
condition,  upon  Evelyn,  her  union  with  yourself;  he 
did  not  make  the  forfeiture  of  her  whole  wealth  the 
penalty  of  her  rejection  of  that  alliance.  By  the  defi- 
nite limit  of  the  forfeit,  he  intimated  a  distinction  be- 
tween a  command  and  a  desire.  And  surely,  when  you 
consider  all  circumstances,  your  lordship  must  think 
that,  what  with  that  forfeit  and  the  estate  settled  upon 
the  title,  your  uncle  did  all  that,  in  a  worldly  point 
of  view,  equity,  and  even  afi'ection,  could  exact  from 
him." 

Vargrave  smiled  bitterly,  but  said  nothing. 


302  ALICE;   OR,    THE    MYSTERIES. 

"  And  if  this  be  doubted,  I  have  clearer  proof  of  his 
intentions.  Svich  was  his  confidence  in  Lady  Vargrave 
that,  in  the  letter  he  addressed  to  her  before  his  death, 
and  which  I  now  submit  to  your  lordship,  you  will 
observe  that  he  not  only  expressly  leaves  it  to  Lady 
Vargrave 's  discretion  to  communicate  to  Evelyn  that 
history  of  which  she  is  at  present  ignorant,  but  that 
he  also  clearly  defines  the  line  of  conduct  he  wished 
to  be  adopted  with  respect  to  Evelyn  and  yourself. 
Permit  me  to  point  out  the  passage." 

Impatiently  Lord  Vargrave  ran  his  eye  over  the  letter 
placed  in  his  hands,  till  he  came  to  these  lines:  — 

And  if,  when  she  has  arrived  at  the  proper  age  to  form  a 
judgment,  Evelyn  should  decide  against  Luiuley's  claims,  you 
know  that  on  no  account  would  I  sacrifice  her  happiness ;  all 
that  I  require  is,  that  fair  play  be  given  to  his  pretensions,  — • 
due  indulgence  to  the  scheme  I  have  long  had  at  heart.  Let 
her  be  brought  up  to  consider  him  her  future  husband,  let  her 
not  be  prejudiced  against  him,  let  her  fairly  judge  for  herseK, 
whun  the  time  arrives. 

"You  see,  my  lord,"  said  Mr.  Aubrey,  as  he  took 
back  the  letter,  "  that  this  letter  bears  the  same  date  as 
your  uncle's  will.  What  he  desired  has  been  done. 
Be  just,  my  lord, — be  just,  and  exonerate  us  all  from 
blame.      Who  can  dictate  to  the  affections?" 

"And  I  am  to  understand  that  I  have  no  chance, 
now  or  hereafter,  of  obtaining  the  alfections  of  Evelyn? 
Surely,  at  your  age,  Mr.  Aubrey,  you  cannot  encourage 
the  heated  romance  common  to  all  girls  of  Evelyn's  age. 
Persons  of  our  rank  do  not  marry  like  the  Corydou  and 
Phyllis  of  a  pastoral.  At  my  years,  I  never  was  fool 
enough  to  expect  that  T  should  inspire  a  girl  of  seven- 
teen with  what  is  called  a  passionate  attachment.  But 
happy  marriages  are  based  upon  suitable  circumstances, 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  303 

mutual  knowledge  and  indulgence,  respect,  esteem. 
Come,  sir,  let  me  hope  yet,  —  let  me  hope  that,  on 
the  same  day,  T  may  congratulate  you  on  your  prefer- 
ment and  you  may  congratulate  me  upon  my  marriage." 

Vargrave  said  this  with  a  cheerful  and  easy  smile; 
and  the  tone  of  his  voice  was  that  of  a  man  who  wished 
to  convey  serious  meaning  in  a  jesting  accent. 

Mr.  Aubrey,  meek  as  he  was,  felt  the  insult  of  the 
hinted  bribe,  and  colored  with  a  resentment  no  sooner 
excited  than  checked.  "Excuse  me,  my  lord,  I  have 
now  said  all;  the  rest  had  better  be  left  to  your  ward 
herself." 

"Be  it  so,  sir.  I  will  ask  you,  then,  to  convey  my 
request  to  Evelyn  to  honor  me  with  a  last  and  parting 
interview." 

Vargrave  flung  himself  on  his  chair,  and  Aubrey  left 
him. 


304  ALICE;   OK,   THE   MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Thus  airy  Strephon  tuned  his  lyre.  —  Shenstone. 

In  his  meeting  with  Evelyn,  Vargrave  certainly  exerted 
to  the  utmost  all  his  ability  and  all  his  art.  He  felt 
that  violence,  that  sarcasm,  that  selfish  complaint  would 
not  avail  in  a  man  who  was  not  loved,  —  though  they 
are  often  admirable  cards  in  the  hands  of  a  man  who  is. 
As  his  own  heart  was  perfectly  untouched  in  the  matter, 
except  by  rage  and  disappointment,  — feelings  which 
■with  him  never  lasted  very  long,  —  he  could  play  coolly 
his  losing  game.  His  keen  and  ready  intellect  taught 
him  that  all  he  could  now  expect  was  to  bequeath  senti- 
ments of  generous  compassion  and  friendly  interest;  to 
create  a  favorable  impression,  which  he  might  hereafter 
improve ;  to  reserve,  in  short,  some  spot  of  vantage- 
ground  in  the  country,  from  which  he  was  to  affect  to 
withdraw  all  his  forces.  He  had  known,  in  his  expe- 
rience of  women,  which,  whether  as  an  actor  or  a  specta- 
tor, was  large  and  various,  —  though  not  among  very 
delicate  and  refined  natures,  —  that  a  lady  often  takes  a 
fancy  to  a  suitor  after  she  has  rejected  him;  that,  pre- 
cisely because  she  has  once  rejected,  she  ultimately 
accepts  him.  And  even  this  chance  was,  in  circum- 
stances so  desperate,  not  to  be  neglected.  He  assumed, 
therefore,  the  countenance,  the  postures,  and  the  voice 
of  heart-broken  but  submissive  despair;  he  affected  a 
nobleness  and  magnanimity  in  his  grief,  which  touched 
Evelyn  to  the  quick,  and  took  her  by  surprise. 


ALICE;    OR,   THE    MYSTERIES,  305 

"  It  is  enough, "  said  he,  in  sad  and  faltering  accents,  — 
"  quite  enough  to  me  to  know  that  you  cannot  love  me, 
that  I  shoiild  fail  in  rendering  you  happy :  say  no  more, 
Evelyn,  say  no  more  !  Let  me  spare  you,  at  least,  the 
pain  your  generous  nature  must  feel  in  my  anguish;  I 
resign  all  pretensions  to  your  hand :  you  are  free  !  May 
you  be  happy !  " 

"  Oh,  Lord  Vargrave  !  oh ,  Lumley !  "  said  Evelyn, 
weeping,  and  moved  by  a  thousand  recollections  of  early 
years,  "  if  I  could  but  prove  in  any  other  way  my 
grateful  sense  of  your  merits,  your  too  partial  apprecia- 
tion of  me,  my  regard  for  my  lost  benefactor,  —  then, 
indeed,  nor  till  then,  could  I  be  happy.  Oh  that  this 
wealth,  so  little  desired  by  me,  had  been  more  at  my 
disposal:  but  as  it  is,  the  day  that  sees  me  in  possession 
of  it,  shall  see  it  placed  under  your  disposition,  your 
control.  This  is  but  justice,  ■ — •  common  justice  to  you ; 
you  were  the  nearest  relation  of  the  departed.  I  had  no 
claim  on  him,  —  none,  but  atfection.  Affection !  and  yet 
I  disobey  him  !  " 

There  was  much  in  all  this  that  secretly  pleased  Var- 
grave ;  but  it  only  seemed  to  redouble  his  grief. 

"  Talk  not  thus,  my  ward,  my  friend,  —  ah !  still  my 
friend,"  said  he,  putting  his  handkerchief  to  his  eyes. 
"  I  repine  not :  I  am  more  than  satisfied.  Still  let  me 
preserve  my  privilege  of  guardian,  of  adviser,  —  a  privi- 
lege dearer  to  me  than  all  the  wealth  of  the  Indies !  " 

Lord  Vargrave  had  some  faint  suspicion  that  Legard 
had  created  an  undue  interest  in  Evelyn's  heart;  and 
on  this  point  he  delicately  and  indirectly  sought  to  sound 
her.  Her  replies  convinced  him  that  if  Evelyn  had  con- 
ceived any  prepossession  for  Legard,  there  had  not  been 
time  or  opportunity  to  ripen  it  into  deep  attachment. 
Of  Maltravers  he  had  no  fear.     The  habitual  self-control 

20 


306  alicp:  ;  or,  the  mysteries. 

of  that  reserved  personage  deceived  him  partly ;  and  his 
low  opinion  of  mankind  deceived  him  still  more.  For, 
if  there  had  been  any  love  between  Maltravers  and 
Evelyn,  why  shoidd  the  former  not  have  stood  his  ground 
and  declared  his  suit  ?  Lumley  would  have  "  halvd  " 
and  "pished"  at  the  thought  of  any  punctilious  regard 
for  engagements  so  easily  broken  having  power  either  to 
check  passion  for  beauty,  or  to  restrain  self-interest  in 
the  chase  of  an  heiress.  He  had  known  Maltravers  am- 
bitious; and  with  him,  ambition  and  self-interest  meant 
the  same.  Thus,  by  the  very  finesse  of  his  character, 
while  Vargrave  ever,  with  the  worldly,  was  a  keen  and 
almost  infallible  observer,  with  natures  of  a  more  refined 
or  a  higher  order,  he  always  missed  the  mark  by  over- 
shooting. Besides,  had  a  suspicion  of  Maltravers  ever 
crossed  him,  Caroline's  communications  would  have  dis- 
pelled it.  It  was  more  strange  that  Caroline  should  have 
been  blind;  nor  would  she  have  been  so,  had  she  been 
less  absorbed  in  her  own  schemes  and  destinies.  All  her 
usual  penetration  had  of  late  settled  in  self;  and  an  un- 
easy feeling  —  half  arising  from  conscientious  reluctance 
to  aid  Vargrave's  objects,  half  from  jealous  irritation  at 
the  thought  of  Vargrave's  marrying  another  —  had  pre- 
vented her  from  seeking  any  very  intimate  or  confiden- 
tial communication  with  Evelyn  herself. 

The  dreaded  conference  was  over ;  Evelyn  parted  from 
Vargrave  with  the  very  feelings  he  had  calculated  on 
exciting :  the  moment  he  ceased  to  be  her  lover,  her  old 
childish  regard  for  him  recommenced.  She  pitied  his 
dejection,  she  respected  his  generosity,  she  was  deeply 
grateful  for  his  forbearance.  But  still  —  still  she  was 
free ;  and  her  heart  bounded  within  her  at  the  thought. 

Meanwhile,  Vargrave,  after  his  solemn  farewell  to 
Evelyn,  retreated  again  to  his  own  room,  where  he  re- 


ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  307 

mained  till  his  post-horses  arrived.  Then,  descending 
into  the  drawing-room,  he  was  pleased  to  find  neither 
Aubrey  nor  Evelyn  there.  He  knew  that  much  affecta- 
tion would  be  thrown  away  upon  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Merton ; 
he  thanked  them  for  their  hospitality,  with  grave  and 
brief  cordiality,  and  then  turned  to  Caroline,  who  stood 
apart  by  the  window. 

"  AU  is  up  Avith  me  at  present, "  he  whispered.  "  I 
leave  you,  Caroline,  in  anticipation  of  fortune,  rank,  and 
prosperity;  that  is  some  comfort.  For  myself,  I  see 
only  difficulties,  embarrassment,  and  poverty  in  the 
future ;  but  I  despond  of  nothing,  —  hereafter  you  may 
serve  me,  as  I  have  served  you.  Adieu!  I  have  been 
advising  Caroline  not  to  spoil  Doltimore,  Mrs.  Merton; 
he  is  conceited  enough  already.  Good-by  !  God  bless 
you  all !  Love  to  your  little  girls.  Let  me  know  if  I 
can  serve  you  in  any  way,  IVIerton,  —  good-by  again !  " 
And  thus,  sentence  by  sentence,  Vargrave  talked  himself 
into  his  carriage.  As  it  drove  by  the  drawing-room  win- 
dows, he  saw  Caroline  standing  motionless  where  he  had 
left  her.  He  kissed  his  hand;  her  eyes  were  fixed 
mournfully  on  his.  Hard,  wayward,  and  worldly  as 
Caroline  Merton  was,  Vargrave  was  yet  not  worthy  of 
the  affection  he  had  inspired ;  for  she  could  feel ,  and  he 
could  not,  —  the  distinction,  perhaps,  between  the  sexes. 
And  there  still  stood  Caroline  Merton,  recalling  the  last 
tones  of  that  indifferent  voice,  till  she  felt  her  hand 
seized,  and  turned  round  to  see  Lord  Doltimore,  and 
smile  upon  the  happy  lover,  persuaded  that  he  was 
adored. 


BOOK  VI. 


Hvp  ffol  Trpoaoiaw,  Kov  rh  <rhv  irpoffKeipo/iiai. 

EuRiP. :  Androm.  258- 

I  will  bring  fire  to  thee,  —  I  reck  not  of  the  place. 


BOOK  VI. 


CHAPTER  I. 

This  ancient  city. 
How  wanton  sits  she  amidst  Nature's  smiles ! 

Various  nations  meet, 
As  in  the  sea,  yet  not  confined  in  space, 
But  streaming  freely  through  the  spacious  streets. 

Young. 
His  teeth  he  still  did  grind, 
And  grimly  gnash,  threatening  revenge  in  vain. 

Spenser. 

"Paris  is  a  delightful  place, —  that  is  allowed  by  all. 
It  is  delightful  to  the  young,  to  the  gay,  to  the  idle;  to 
the  literary  lion,  who  likes  to  be  petted;  to  the  wiser 
epicure,  who  indulges  a  more  justifiable  appetite.  It  is 
delightful  to  ladies,  who  wish  to  live  at  their  ease,  and 
buy  beautiful  caps ;  delightful  to  philanthropists,  who  wish 
for  listeners  to  schemes  of  colonizing  the  moon;  delight- 
ful to  the  haunters  of  balls,  and  ballets,  and  little  thea- 
tres, and  superb  cafes,  where  men  with  beards  of  all  sizes 
and  shapes  scowl  at  the  English,  and  involve  their  intel- 
lects in  the  fascinating  game  of  dominoes.  For  these  and 
for  many  others,  Paris  is  delightfid.  I  say  nothing 
against  it.  But,  for  my  own  part,  I  woidd  rather  live  in 
a  garret  in  London  than  in  a  palace  in  the  Chaussee 
d'Antm.  —  Chaciin  a  son  mnuvais  gout. 

"  I  don't  like  the  streets,  in  which  I  cannot  walk  but 
in  the  kennel ;  I  don't  like  the  shops,  that  contain  noth- 


312  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

ing  except  what 's  at  the  window ;  I  don't  like  the  houses 
like  prisons,  which  look  upon  a  courtyard;  I  don't  like 
tlie  beaux  jardins,  which  grow  no  plants  save  a  Cupid  in 
plaster;  I  don't  like  the  wood  fires,  which  demand  as 
many  petits  soins  as  the  women,  and  which  warm  no  part 
of  one  but  one's  eyelids;  I  don't  like  the  language,  with 
its  strong  phrases  about  nothing,  and  vibrating  like  a 
pendulum  between  '  rapture  '  and  '  desolation ; '  I  don't 
like  the  accent,  which  one  cannot  get  without  speaking 
through  one's  nose ;  I  don't  like  the  eternal  fuss  and  jab- 
ber about  books  without  nature,  and  revolutions  without 
fruit ;  I  have  no  sympathy  with  tales  that  turn  on  a  dead 
jackass ;  nor  with  constitutions  that  give  the  ballot  to  the 
representatives,  and  withhold  the  suffrage  from  the  peo- 
ple ;  neither  have  I  much  faith  in  that  enthusiasm  for  the 
beaux  arts,  which  shows  its  produce  in  execrable  music, 
detestable  pictures,  abominable  sculpture,  and  a  droll  some- 
thing that  I  believe  the  French  call  poetry.  Dancing 
and  cookery,  —  these  are  the  arts  the  French  excel  in,  I 
grant  it ;  and  excellent  things  they  are ;  but  oh,  England ! 
oh,  Germany!  you  need  not  be  jealous  of  your  rival!  " 

These  are  not  the  author's  remarks,  — he  disowns 
them ;  they  were  Mr.  Cleveland's.  He  was  a  prejudiced 
man ;  Maltravers  was  more  liberal,  but  then  Maltravers 
did  not  pretend  to  be  a  wit. 

Maltravers  had  been  several  weeks  in  the  city  of  cities, 
and  now  he  had  his  apartments  in  the  gloomy  but  inter- 
esting Faubourg  St.  Germain  all  to  himself.  For  Cleve- 
land, having  attended  eight  days  at  a  sale,  and  having 
moreover  ransacked  all  the  curiosity  shops,  and  shipped 
off  bronzes,  and  cabinets,  and  Genoese  silks,  and  objets  de 
vertu  enough  to  have  half-furnished  Fonthill,  had  fulfilled 
his  mission  and  returned  to  his  villa.  Before  the  old 
gentleman  went,  he  flattered  himself  that  change  of  air 


ALICE;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES.  313 

and  scene  had  already  been  serviceaUe  to  his  friend; 
and  that  time  would  work  a  complete  cure  upon  that 
commonest  of  all  maladies,  an  unrequited  passion,  or  an 
ill-placed  caprice. 

Maltravers,  mdeed,  in  the  habit  of  conquering,  as  well 
as  of  concealing  emotion,  vigorously  and  earnestly  strove 
to  dethrone  the  image  that  had  usurped  his  heart.  Still 
vain  of  his  self-command,  and  still  worshipping  his  favor- 
ite virtue  of  fortitude,  and  his  delusive  philosophy  of  the 
calm  golden  mean,  he  would  not  weakly  indulge  the  pas- 
sion, while  he  had  so  sternly  fled  from  its  object.  But 
yet  the  image  of  Evelyn  pursued, —  it  haunted  him;  it 
came  on  him  unawares  in  solitude,  in  crowds.  That 
smile  so  cheering,  yet  so  soft,  that  ever  had  power  to 
chase  away  the  shadow  from  his  soul ;  that  youthful  and 
luxurious  bloom  of  pure  and  eloquent  thoughts,  which 
was  as  the  blossom  of  genius  before  its  fruit,  bitter  as 
well  as  sweet,  is  born ;  that  rare  union  of  quick  feeling 
and  serene  temper,  which  forms  the  very  ideal  of  what 
we  dream  of  in  the  mistress,  and  exact  from  the  wife, — 
all,  even  more,  far  more,  than  the  exquisite  form  and  the 
delicate  graces  of  the  less  durable  beauty,  returned  to 
him,  after  every  struggle  with  himself;  and  time  only 
seemed  to  grave,  in  deeper  if  more  latent  folds  of  liis 
heart,  the  ineradicable  impression. 

Maltravers  renewed  his  acquaintance  with  some  persons 
not  unfamiliar  to  the  reader. 

Valerie  de  Ventadour,  —  how  many  recollections  of 
the  fairer  days  of  life  were  connected  with  that  name ! 
Precisely  as  she  had  never  reached  to  his  love,  but  only 
excited  his  fancy  (the  fancy  of  twenty-two!),  had  her 
image  always  retained  a  pleasant  and  grateful  hue;  it  was 
blended  with  no  deep  sorrow,  no  stern  regret,  no  dark 
remorse,  no  haunting  shame. 


314  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

They  met  again.  Madame  de  Ventadour  was  still 
beautiful,  and  still  admired,  — perhaps  more  admired 
than  ever;  for  to  the  great,  fashion  and  celebrity  bring 
a  second  and  yet  more  popular  youth.  But  Maltravers, 
if  rejoiced  to  see  how  gently  time  had  dealt  with  the  fait 
Frenchwoman,  was  yet  more  pleased  to  read  in  her  fine 
features  a  more  serene  and  contented  expression  than  they 
had  formerly  Avorn.  Valerie  de  Ventadour  had  preceded 
her  younger  admirer  through  the  "  mysteries  of  life  ;  " 
she  had  learned  the  real  objects  of  being;  she  distin- 
guished between  the  actual  and  the  visionary,  —  the 
shadow  and  the  substance;  she  had  acquired  content  for 
the  present,  and  looked  with  quiet  hope  towards  the 
future.  Her  character  was  still  spotless;  or,  rather, 
every  year  of  temptation  and  trial  had  given  it  a  fairer 
lustre.  Love,  that  might  have  ruined,  being  once  sub- 
dued, preserved  her  from  all  after  danger.  The  first 
meeting  between  Maltravers  and  Valerie  was,  it  is  true, 
one  of  some  embarrassment  and  reserve ;  not  so  the  sec- 
ond. They  did  but  once,  and  that  slightly,  recur  to  the 
past;  and  from  that  moment,  as  by  a  tacit  understanding, 
true  friendship  between  them  dated.  Neither  felt  morti- 
fied to  see  that  an  illusion  had  passed  away, —  they  were 
no  longer  the  same  in  each  other's  eyes.  Both  might  be 
improved,  and  were  so;  but  the  Valerie  and  the  Ernest 
of  Naples  were  as  things  dead  and  gone!  Perhaps  Vale- 
rie's heart  was  even  more  reconciled  to  the  cure  of  its  soft 
and  luxurious  malady  by  the  renewal  of  their  acquaint- 
ance. The  mature  and  experienced  reasoner,  in  whom 
enthusiasm  had  undergone  its  usual  change,  with  the 
calm  brow  and  commanding  aspect  of  sober  manhood, 
was  a  being  so  different  from  the  romantic  boy,  new  to 
the  actual  world  of  civilized  toils  and  pleasures,  —  fresh 
from  the  adventures  of  Eastern  wanderings,  and  full  of 


ALICE  ;   OR,    THE    MYSTERIES.  315 

golden  dreams  of  poetry  before  it  settles  into  authorship 
or  action!  She  missed  the  brilliant  errors,  the  daring 
aspirations,  even  the  animated  gestures  and  eager  elo- 
quence, that  had  interested  and  enamoured  her  in  the 
loiterer  by  the  shores  of  Baia?,  or  amidst  the  tomblike 
chambers  of  Pompeii.  For  the  Maltravers  now  before 
her,  wiser,  better,  nobler,  even  handsomer  than  of  yore 
(for  he  was  one  whom  manhood  became  better  than 
youth),  the  Frenchwoman  could  at  any  period  have  felt 
friendship  witliout  danger.  It  seemed  to  her,  not,  as  it 
really  was,  the  natural  development,  but  the  very  con- 
trast of  the  ardent,  variable,  imaginative  boy,  by  whose 
Bide  she  had  gazed  at  night  on  the  moonlit  waters  and 
JDsy  skies  of  the  soft  Parthenope !  How  does  time,  after 
iong  absence,  bring  to  us  such  contrasts  between  the  one 
we  remember  and  the  one  we  see !  And  what  a  melan- 
choly mockery  does  it  seem  of  our  own  vain  hearts,  dream- 
ing of  impressions  never  to  be  changed,  and  affections 
that  never  can  grow  cool. 

And  now,  as  they  conversed  with  all  the  ease  of  cor- 
dial and  guileless  friendship,  liow  did  Valerie  rejoice  in 
secret  that  upon  that  friendship  there  rested  no  blot  of 
shame !  and  that  she  had  not  forfeited  those  consolations 
for  a  home  without  love,  which  had  at  last  settled  into 
cheerful  nor  unhallowed  resignation,  —  consolations  only 
to  be  found  in  the  conscience  and  the  pride ! 

Monsieur  de  Ventadour  had  not  altered,  except  that 
his  nose  was  longer,  and  that  he  now  wore  a  peruke  in 
full  curl,  instead  of  his  own  straight  hair.  But,  some- 
how or  other,  — perhaps  by  the  mere  charm  of  custom, 
. —  he  had  grown  more  pleasing  in  Valerie's  eyes;  habit 
had  reconciled  her  to  his  foibles,  deficiencies,  and  faults; 
and,  by  comparison  with  others,  she  could  better  appre- 
ciate his  good  qualities,    such  as  they  were:  generosity, 


310  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

good-temper,  good-nature,  and  unbounded  indulgence  to 
herself.  Husband  and  wife  have  so  many  interests  in 
common  that,  when  they  have  jogged  on  through  the 
ups  and  downs  of  life  a  sufficient  time,  the  leash  Avhich 
at  first  galled  often  grows  easy  and  familiar ;  and  unless 
the  temper,  or  rather  the  disposition  and  the  heart,  of 
either  be  insufferable,  what  was  once  a  grievous  yoke 
becomes  but  a  companionable  tie.  And  for  the  rest, 
Valerie,  now  that  sentiment  and  fancy  were  sobered  down, 
could  take  pleasure  in  a  thousand  things  which  her  pining 
aff'ections  once,  as  it  were,  overlooked  and  overshot. 
She  could  feel  grateful  for  all  the  advantages  her  station 
and  wealth  procured  her;  she  could  cull  the  roses  in  her 
reach,  without  sighing  for  the  amaranths  of  Elysium. 

If  the  great  have  more  temptations  than  those  of  middle 
life,  and  if  their  senses  of  enjoyment  become  more  easily 
pampered  into  a  sickly  apathy,  so  at  least  (if  they  can 
once  outlive  satiety)  they  have  many  more  resources  at 
their  command.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  justice  in  the 
old  line,  displeasing  though  it  be  to  those  who  think  of 
love  in  a  cottage,  "  't  is  best  repenting  in  a  coach-and- 
six !  "  If  among  the  Eupatrids,  the  well-born,  there  is 
less  love  in  wedlock,  less  quiet  happiness  at  home,  still 
they  are  less  chained  each  to  each,  —  they  have  more 
independence,  both  the  woman  and  the  man,  —  and 
occupations  and  the  solace  without  can  be  so  easily  ob- 
tained !  Madame  de  Ventadour,  in  retiring  from  the 
mere  frivolities  of  society,  —  from  crowded  rooms,  and 
the  inane  talk  and  hollow  smiles  of  mere  acquaintance- 
ship, —  became  more  sensible  of  the  pleasures  that  her 
refined  and  elegant  intellect  could  derive  from  art  and 
talent,  and  the  communion  of  friendship.  She  drew 
around  her  the  most  cultivated  minds  of  her  time  and 
country.     Her  abilities,  her  wit,  and  her  conversational 


ALICE;  OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  317 

graces  enabled  her  not  only  to  mix  on  equal  terras  with 
the  most  eminent,  but  to  amalgamate  and  blend  the  varie- 
ties of  talent  into  harmony.  The  same  persons,  when 
met  elsewhere,  seemed  to  have  lost  their  charm;  under 
Valerie's  roof  every  one  breathed  a  congenial  atmosphere. 
And  music  and  letters,  and  all  that  can  refine  and  em- 
bellish civilized  life,  contributed  their  resources  to  this 
gifted  and  beautiful  woman.  And  thus  she  found  that 
the  mind  has  excitement  and  occupation  as  well  as  the 
heart;  and,  unlike  the  latter,  the  culture  we  bestow 
upon  the  first  ever  yields  us  its  return.  We  talk  of  edu- 
cation for  the  poor,  but  we  forget  how  much  it  is  needed 
by  the  rich.  Valerie  was  a  living  instance  of  the  advan- 
tages to  women  of  knowledge  and  intellectual  resources. 
By  them  she  had  purified  her  fancy ;  by  them  she  had 
conquered  discontent;  by  them  she  had  grown  reconciled 
to  life,  and  to  her  lot !  Wlien  the  heavy  heart  weighed 
down  the  one  scale,  it  was  the  mind  that  restored  the 
balance. 

The  spells  of  Madame  de  Ventadour  drew  Maltravers 
into  this  charmed  circle  of  all  that  was  highest,  purest, 
and  most  gifted  in  the  society  of  Paris.  There  he  did 
not  meet,  as  were  met  in  the  times  of  the  old  regime, 
sparkling  abbes  intent  upon  intrigues;  or  amorous  old 
dowagers,  eloquent  on  Kousseau ;  or  powdered  courtiers, 
uttering  epigrams  against  kings  and  religions,  —  straws 
that  foretold  the  whirlwind.  Paul  Courier  was  right! 
Frenchmen  are  Frenchmen  still;  they  are  full  of  fine 
phrases,  and  their  thoughts  smell  of  the  theatre ;  they 
mistake  foil  for  diamonds,  the  grotesque  for  the  natural, 
the  exaggerated  for  the  sublime;  but  still  I  say,  Paul 
Courier  was  right :  there  is  more  honesty  now  in  a  single 
salon  in  Paris  than  there  was  in  all  France  in  the  days 
of  Voltaire !     Vast   interests  and   solemn  causes  are  no 


318  ALICE;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES. 

longer  tossed  about  like  shuttlecocks  on  the  battledores 
of  empty  tongues.  In  the  bouleversement  of  Kevolu- 
tions,   the  French  have  fallen  on  their  feet ! 

Meeting  men  of  all  parties  and  all  classes,  MaltraveT-s 
was  struck  with  the  heightened  tone  of  public  morals, 
the  earnest  sincerity  of  feeling  which  generally  pervaded 
all,  as  compared  with  his  first  recollections  of  the  Pari- 
sians. He  saw  the  true  elements  for  national  wisdom 
were  at  work,  though  he  saw  also  that  there  was  ncr 
country  in  which  their  operations  would  be  more  liabli 
to  disorder,  more  slow  and  irregular  in  their  results. 
The  French  are  like  the  Israelites  in  the  Wilderness, 
when,  according  to  a  Hebrew  tradition,  every  morning 
they  seemed  on  the  verge  of  Pisgah,  and  every  evening 
they  Avere  as  far  from  it  as  ever.  But  still  time  rolls  on, 
the  pilgrimage  draws  to  its  close,  and  the  Canaan  must 
come  at  last. 

At  Valerie's  house,  Maltravers  once  more  met  the  De 
Montaignes,  It  was  a  painful  meeting,  for  they  thought 
of  Cesarini  when  they  met. 

It  is  now  time  to  return  to  that  unhappy  man.  Cesa- 
rini had  been  removed  from  England,  when  Maltravers 
quitted  it  after  Lady  Florence's  death;  and  Maltravers 
had  thought  it  best  to  acquaint  De  Montaigne  with  all 
the  circumstances  that  had  led  to  his  affliction.  The 
pride  and  the  honor  of  the  high-spirited  Frenchman 
were  deeply  shocked  by  the  tale  of  fraud  and  guilt, 
softened  as  it  was;  but  the  sight  of  the  criminal,  his 
awful  punishment,  merged  every  other  feeling  in  com- 
passion. Placed  under  the  care  of  the  most  skilful 
practitioners  in  Paris,  great  hopes  of  Cesarini's  recov- 
ery had  been  at  first  entertained.  Nor  was  it  long, 
indeed,  before  he  appeared  entirely  restored,  so  far  as 
the  external  and  superficial  tokens  of  sanity  could  in- 


ALICE;   OR,    THE   MYSTERIES.  319 

dicate  a  cure.  He  testified  complete  consciousness  of 
the  kindness  of  his  relations,  and  clear  remembrance  of 
the  past;  but  to  the  incoherent  ravings  of  delirium, 
an  intense  melancholy,  still  more  deplorable,  succeeded. 
In  this  state,  however,  he  became  once  more  the  inmate 
of  his  brother-in-law's  house;  and  though  avoiding  all 
society,  except  that  of  Teresa,  whose  affectionate  nature 
never  wearied  of  its  cares,  he  resumed  many  of  his  old 
occupations.  Again  he  appeared  to  take  delight  in  de- 
sultory and  unprofitable  studies,  and  in  the  cultivation 
of  that  luxury  of  solitary  men,  "  the  thankless  muse. " 
By  shunning  all  topics  connected  with  the  gloomy 
cause  of  his  affliction,  and  talking  rather  of  the  sweet 
recollections  of  Italy  and  childhood  than  of  more  recent 
events,  his  sister  was  enabled  to  soothe  the  dark  hour, 
and  preserve  some  kind  of  influence  over  the  ill-fated 
man.  One  day,  however,  there  fell  into  his  hands  an 
English  newspaper,  which  was  full  of  the  praises  of  Lord 
Vargrave;  and  the  article,  in  lauding  the  peer,  referred 
to  his  services  as  the  commoner,  Lumley  Ferrers. 

This  incident,  slight  as  it  appeared,  and  perfectly 
untraceable  by  his  relations,  produced  a  visible  effect 
on  Cesarini;  and  three  days  afterwards  he  attempted 
his  own  life.  The  failure  of  the  attempt  was  followed 
by  the  fiercest  paroxysms.  His  disease  returned  in  all 
its  dread  force ;  and  it  became  necessary  to  place  him 
under  yet  stricter  confinement  than  he  had  endured 
before.  Again,  about  a  year  from  tlie  date  now  entered 
upon,  he  had  appeared  to  recover;  and  again  he  was 
removed  to  De  Montaigne's  house.  His  relations  were 
not  aware  of  the  influence  which  Lord  Vargrave's  name 
exercised  over  Cesarini ;  in  the  melancholy  tale  com- 
municated to  them  by  Maltravers,  that  name  had  not 
been  mentioned.      If  Maltravers  had  at  one  time  enter- 


320  ALICE;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES. 

tained  some  vague  suspicions  that  Lumley  had  acted  a 
treacherous  part  with  regard  to  Florence,  those  sus- 
picions had  long  since  died  away  for  want  of  confirma- 
tion; nor  did  he  (nor  did  therefore  the  De  Montaignes) 
connect  Lord  Vargrave  with  the  affliction  of  Cesarini. 
De  Montaigne  himself,  therefore,  one  day  at  dinner, 
alluding  to  a  question  of  foreign  politics  which  had  been 
debated  that  morning  in  the  Chamber,  and  in  which  he 
himself  had  taken  an  active  part,  happened  to  refer  to 
a  speech  of  Vargrave's  upon  the  subject,  which  had  made 
some  sensation  abroad,  as  well  as  at  home.  Teresa  asked 
innocently  who  Lord  Vargrave  was  1  And  De  Montaigne, 
well  acquainted  with  the  biography  of  the  principal  Eng- 
lish statesmen,  replied  that  he  had  commenced  his  career 
as  Mr.  Ferrers,  and  reminded  Teresa  that  they  had  once 
been  introduced  to  him  in  Paris.  Cesarini  suddenly 
rose,  and  left  the  room;  his  absence  was  not  noted,  — 
for  his  comings  and  goings  were  ever  strange  and  fitful. 
Teresa  soon  afterwards  quitted  the  apartment  with  her 
children;  and  De  Montaigne,  who  was  rather  fatigued 
by  the  exertions  and  excitement  of  the  morning,  stretched 
himself  in  his  chair  to  enjoy  a  short  siesta.  He  was 
suddenly  awakened  by  a  feeling  of  pain  and  suffocation, 
—  awakened  in  time  to  struggle  against  a  strong  gripe 
that  had  fastened  itself  at  his  throat.  The  room  was 
darkened  in  the  growing  shades  of  the  evening ;  and  but 
for  the  glittering  and  savage  eyes  that  were  fixed  on  him, 
he  could  scarcely  discern  his  assailant.  He  at  length 
succeeded,  however,  in  freeing  himself,  and  casting  the 
intended  assassin  on  the  ground.  He  shouted  for  assist- 
ance ;  and  the  lights,  borne  by  the  servants,  who  rushed 
into  the  room,  revealed  to  him  the  face  of  his  brother-in- 
law.  Cesarini,  though  in  strong  convulsions,  still  uttered 
cries   and   imprecations   of   revenge;   he   denounced   De 


ALICE;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES.  321 

Montaigne  as  a  traitor  and  a  murderer!  In  the  dark 
confusion  of  his  mind,  he  had  mistaken  the  guardian  for 
the  distant  foe,  whose  name  sufficed  to  conjure  up  the 
phantoms  of  the  dead,  and  plunge  reason  into  fury. 

It  was  now  clear  that  there  was  danger  and  death  in 
Cesarini's  disease.  His  madness  was  pronounced  to  be 
capable  of  no  certain  and  permanent  cure :  he  was  placed 
at  a  new  asylum  (the  superintendents  of  which  were  cele- 
brated for  humanity  as  well  as  skill),  a  little  distance 
from  Versailles,  and  there  he  still  remained.  Recently 
his  lucid  intervals  had  become  more  frequent  and  pro- 
longed; but  trifles  that  sprang  from  his  own  mind,  and 
which  no  care  could  prevent  or  detect,  sufficed  to  renew 
his  calamity  in  all  its  fierceness.  At  such  times  he  re- 
quired the  most  unrelaxing  vigilance,  for  his  madness 
ever  took  an  alarming  and  ferocious  character;  and  had 
he  been  left  unshackled,  the  boldest  and  stoutest  of  the 
keepers  would  have  dreaded  to  enter  his  cell  unarmed 
or  alone. 

What  made  the  disease  of  the  mind  appear  more  mel- 
ancholy and  confirmed  was  that  all  this  time  the  frame 
seemed  to  increase  in  health  and  strength.  This  is  not 
an  uncommon  case  in  instances  of  mania,  —  and  it  is  gen- 
erally the  worst  symptom.  In  earlier  youth,  Cesarini 
had  been  delicate  even  to  effeminacy ;  l)ut  now  his  pro- 
portions were  enlarged,  his  form  (though  still  lean 
and  spare)  muscular  and  vigorous,  as  if,  in  the  torpor 
which  usually  succeeded  to  his  bursts  of  frenzy,  the  ani- 
mal portion  gained  by  the  repose  or  disorganization  of  tlie 
intellectual.  When  in  his  better  and  calmer  moods,  — 
in  which  indeed  none  but  the  experienced  could  have 
detected  his  malady,  — books  made  his  chief  delight. 
But  then  he  complained  bitterly,  if  briefly,  of  the  con- 
finement he  endured,    of  the  injustice  he  suffered;  and 

21 


322  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

as,  shunning  all  companions,  he  walked  gloomily  amidst 
the  grounds  that  surrounded  that  House  of  Woe,  his 
unseen  guardians  beheld  him  clinching  his  hands,  as  at 
some  visionary  enemy;  or  overheard  him  accuse  some 
phantom  of  his  brain  of  the  torments  he  endured. 

Though  the  reader  can  detect  in  Lumley  Ferrers  the 
cause  of  the  frenzy  and  the  object  of  the  imprecation, 
it  was  not  so  with  the  De  Montaignes,  nor  with  the 
patient's  keepers  and  physicians;  for  in  his  delirium 
he  seldom  or  never  gave  name  to  the  shadows  that  he 
invoked,  —  not  even  to  that  of  Florence.  It  is,  indeed, 
no  unusual  characteristic  of  madness  to  shun,  as  by  a 
kind  of  cunning,  all  mention  of  the  names  of  those  by 
whom  the  madness  has  been  caused.  It  is  as  if  the 
unfortunates  imagined  that  the  madness  might  be  undis- 
covered if  the  images  connected  Avith  it  were  unbetrayed. 

Such,  at  this  time,  was  the  wretched  state  of  the  man 
whose  talents  had  promised  a  fair  and  honorable  career, 
had  it  not  been  the  wretched  tendency  of  his  mind,  from 
boyhood  upward,  to  pamper  every  unwholesome  and  un- 
hallowed feeling  as  a  token  of  the  exuberance  of  genius. 
De  Montaigne,  though  he  touched  as  lightly  as  possible 
upon  this  dark  domestic  calamity  in  his  first  communica- 
tions with  Maltravers,  whose  conduct  in  that  melancholy 
tale  of  crime  and  woe  had,  he  conceived,  been  stamped 
with  generosity  and  feeling,  still  betrayed  emotions  that 
told  how  much  his  peace  had  been  embittered. 

"  I  seek  to  console  Teresa, "  said  he,  turning  away  his 
manly  head,  "  and  to  point  out  all  the  blessings  yet  left 
to  her;  but  tliat  brother  so  beloved,  from  whom  so  much 
was  so  vainly  expected!  —  still  ever  and  ever,  though  she 
strives  to  conceal  it  from  me,  this  affliction  comes  back  to 
her,  and  poisons  every  thought.  Oh,  better  a  thousand 
times  that  he  had  died !     When  reason,  sense,  almost  the 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  323 

soul,  are  dead,  —  how  dark  and  fiend-like  is  the  life  that 
remains  behind!  And  if  it  should  he  in  the  blood j  if 
Teresa's  children  —  dreadful  thought !  " 

De  Montaigne  ceased,  thoroughly  ov<»rcome. 

"  Do  not,  my  dear  friend,  so  fearfully  exaggerate  your 
misfortune,  great  as  it  is;  Cesarini's  disease  evidently 
arose  from  no  physical  conformation:  it  was  but  the 
crisis,  the  development,  of  a  long-contracted  malady  of 
mind,  —  passions  morbidly  indulged,  the  reasoning  fac- 
ulty obstinately  neglected;  and  yet,  too,  he  may  recover. 
The  farther  memory  recedes  from  the  shock  he  has  sus- 
tained, the  better  the  chance  that  his  mind  will  regain  its 
tone." 

De  Montaigne  wrung  his  friend's  hand. 

"  It  is  strange  that  from  you  should  come  sympathy 
and  comfort,  —  you  whom  he  so  injured ;  you  whom 
his  folly  or  his  crime  drove  from  your  proud  career  and 
your  native  soil !  But  Providence  will  yet,  I  trust,  re- 
deem the  evil  of  its  erring  creature,  and  I  shall  yet  live 
to  see  you  restored  to  hope  and  home,  a  happy  husband, 
an  honored  citizen ;  till  then ,  I  feel  as  if  the  curse  lin- 
gered upon  my  race. " 

"  Speak  not  thus ;  whatever  my  destiny,  I  have  re- 
covered from  that  wound.  And  still,  De  Montaigne,  I 
find  in  life  that  suff"ering  succeeds  to  suffering,  and  dis- 
appointment to  disappointment,  as  wave  to  wave.  To 
endure  is  the  only  philosophy ;  to  believe  that  we  shall 
live  again  in  a  brighter  planet,  is  the  only  hope  that  )ur 
reason  should  accept  from  our  desires. " 


324  ALICE  ;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Monatra  evenerimt  mihi, 
Introit  in  sedes  ater  alienus  canis, 
Anguis  per  impluvium  decidit  de  tegulis, 
Gallina  cecinit !  ^ 

Tebent, 

With  his  constitutional  strength  of  mind,  and  conform- 
ably with  his  acquired  theories,  Maltravers  continued 
to  struggle  against  the  latest  and  strongest  passion  of 
his  life.  It  might  be  seen  in  the  paleness  of  his  brow, 
and  that  nameless  expression  of  suffering  which  betrays 
itself  in  the  lines  about  the  mouth,  that  his  health  was 
affected  by  the  conflict  within  him;  and  many  a  sudden 
fit  of  absence  and  abstraction,  many  an  impatient  sigh, 
followed  by  a  forced  and  unnatural  gayety,  told  the 
observant  Valerie  that  he  was  the  prey  of  a  sorrow  he 
was  too  proud  to  disclose.  He  compelled  himself,  how- 
ever, to  take,  or  to  affect,  an  interest  in  the  singular 
phenomena  of  the  social  state  around  him,  —  phenomena 
that,  in  a  happier  or  serener  mood,  would  indeed  have 
suggested  no  ordinary  food  for  conjecture  and  meditation. 
The  state  of  visible  transition  is  the  state  of  nearly  all 
the  enlightened  communities  in  Europe.  But  nowhere 
is  it  so  pronounced  as  in  that  country  which  may  be 
called  the  heart  of  European  civilization.  There,  all 
to  which  the  spirit  of  society  attaches   itself  appears 

'  Prodigies  have  occurred :  a  strange  black  dog  came  into  the 
house  ;  a  snake  glided  from  the  tiles,  through  the  court ;  the  hen 
crowed. 


ALICE;  OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  325 

broken,  vague,  and  half  developed,  —  the  antique  in 
ruins,  and  the  new  not  formed.  It  is  perhaps  the  only- 
country  in  which  the  constructive  principle  has  not  kept 
pace  with  the  destructive.  The  has  been  is  blotted  out; 
the  to  be  is  as  the  shadow  of  a  far  land  in  a  mighty 
and  perturbed  sea.^ 

Maltravers,  who  for  several  years  had  not  examined 
the  progress  of  modern  literature,  looked  with  mingled 
feelings  of  surprise,  distaste,  and  occasional  and  most 
reluctant  admiration  on  the  various  works  which  the  suc- 
cessors of  Voltaire  and  Rousseau  have  produced,  and  are 
pleased  to  call  the  offspring  of  truth  united  to  romance. 

Profoundly  versed  in  the  mechanism  and  elements  of 
those  masterpieces  of  Germany  and  England,  from  which 
the  French  have  borrowed  so  largely,  while  pretending 
to  be  original,  Maltravers  was  shocked  to  see  the  mon- 
sters which  these  Frankensteins  had  created  from  the 
relics  and  offal  of  the  holiest  sepulchres.  The  head  of 
a  giant  on  the  limbs  of  a  dwarf,  incongruous  members 
jumbled  together:  parts  fair  and  beautiful,  — the  whole 
a  hideous  distortion! 

"  It  may  be  possible,"  said  he  to  De  Montaigne,  "  that 
these  works  are  admired  and  extolled;  but  how  they 
can  be  vindicated  by  the  examples  of  Shakespeare  and 
Goethe,  or  even  of  Byron,  who  redeemed  poor  and 
melodramatic  conceptions  with  a  manly  vigor  of  execu- 
tion, an  energy  and  completeness  of  purpose  that  Dryden 
himself  never  surpassed,  is  to  me  utterly  inconceivable." 

"  I  allow  that  there  is  a  strange  mixture  of  fustian 
and  maudlin  in  all  these  things,"  answered  De  Mon- 
taigne ;  "  but   they  are   but  the  windfalls  of  trees  that 

1  The  reader  will  remember  that  these  remarks  were  written 
long  before  the  last  French  Revolution,  and  when  the  dynasty  of 
Louis  Philippe  was  generally  considered  most  secure. 


326  ALICE  ;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES. 

may  bear  rich  fruit  in  due  season;  meanwhile,  any  new 
school  is  better  than  eternal  imitations  of  the  old.  As 
for  critical  vindications  of  the  works  themselves,  the 
age  that  produces  the  phenomena  is  never  the  age  to 
classify  and  analyze  them.  We  have  had  a  deluge,  and 
now  new  creatures  spring  from  the  new  soil." 

"  An  excellent  simile ;  they  come  forth  from  slime  and 
mud,  —  fetid  and  crawling,  unformed  and  monstrous.  I 
grant  exceptions;  and  even  in  the  new  school,  as  it  is 
called,  I  can  admire  the  real  genius,  —  the  vital  and 
creative  power  of  Victor  Hugo.  But  oh  that  a  nation 
which  has  known  a  Corneille  should  ever  spawn  forth 
a  !  And  with  these  rickety  and  drivelling  abor- 
tions, all  having  followers  and  adulators,  your  Public 
can  still  bear  to  be  told  that  they  have  improved  won- 
derfully on  the  day  when  they  gave  laws  and  models  to 

the  literature  of  Europe ;   they  can  bear  to  hear 

proclaimed  a  sublime  genius  in  the  same  circles  which 
sneer  down  Voltaire!" 

Voltaire  is  out  of  fashion  in  France,  but  Rousseau 
still  maintains  his  influence,  and  boasts  his  imitators. 
Rousseau  was  the  worse  man  of  the  two ;  perhaps  he  was 
also  the  more  dangerous  writer.  But  his  reputation  is 
more  durable,  and  sinks  deeper  into  the  heart  of  his 
nation;  and  the  danger  of  his  unstable  and  capricious 
doctrines  has  passed  away.  In  Voltaire  we  behold  the 
fate  of  all  writers  purely  destructive;  their  uses  cease 
with  the  evils  they  denounce.  But  Rousseau  sought  to 
construct  as  well  as  to  destroy;  and  though  nothing 
could  well  be  more  absurd  than  his  constructions,  still 
man  loves  to  look  back  and  see  even  delusive  images  — 
castles  in  the  air  —  reared  above  the  waste  where  cities 
have  been.  Rather  than  leave  even  a  burial-ground  to 
solitude,  we  populate  it  with  ghosts. 


ALICE;  on,   THE   MYSTERIES.  327 

By  degrees,  however,  as  he  mastered  all  the  features 
of  the  French  literature,  Maltravers  became  more  tol- 
erant of  the  present  defects,  and  more  hopeful  of  the 
future  results.  He  saw  in  one  respect  that  that  litera- 
ture carried  with  it  its  own  ultimate  redemption. 

Its  general  characteristic  —  contradistinguished  from 
the  literature  of  the  old  French  classic  school  —  is  to 
take  the  heart  for  its  study ;  to  bring  the  passions  and 
feelings  into  action,  and  let  the  within  have  its  record 
and  history  as  well  as  the  without.  In  all  this,  our 
contemplative  analyst  began  to  allow  that  the  French 
were  not  far  wrong  when  they  contended  that  Shake- 
speare made  the  fountain  of  their  inspiration,  — a  foun- 
tain which  the  majority  of  our  later  English  fictionists 
have  neglected.  It  is  not  by  a  story  woven  of  interest- 
ing incidents,  relieved  by  delineations  of  the  externals 
and  surface  of  character,  humorous  phraseology,  and 
every -day  ethics,  that  fiction  achieves  its  grandest  ends. 

In  the  French  literature,  thus  characterized,  there  is 
much  false  morality,  much  depraved  sentiment,  and  much 
hollow  rant.  But  still  it  carries  within  it  the  germ  of 
an  excellence  which,  sooner  or  later,  must,  in  the  pro- 
gress of  national  genius,  arrive  at  its  full  development. 

Meanwhile  it  is  a  consolation  to  know  that  nothing 
really  immoral  is  ever  permanently  popular,  or  ever, 
therefore,  long  deleterious ;  what  is  dangerous  in  a  work 
of  genius  cures  itself  in  a  few  years.  We  can  now 
read  "  Werther,"  and  instruct  our  hearts  by  its  exposition 
of  weakness  and  passion,  —  our  taste  by  its  exquisite 
and  unrivalled  simplicity  of  construction  and  detail, — 
without  any  fear  that  we  shall  shoot  ourselves  in  top- 
boots!  We  can  feel  ourselves  elevated  by  the  noble 
sentiments  of  "  The  Robbers,"  and  our  penetration  sharp- 
ened as  to  the  wholesale  immorality   of   conventional 


328  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

cant  and  hypocrisy,  without  any  danger  of  turning  ban- 
ditti, and  becoming  cut-throats  from  the  love  of  virtue. 
Providence,  that  has  made  the  genius  of  the  few  in  all 
times  and  countries  the  guide  and  prophet  of  the  many, 
and  appointed  literature  as  the  sublime  agent  of  civiliza- 
tion, of  opinion ,  and  of  law,  has  endowed  the  elements 
it  employs  with  a  divine  power  of  self-purification. 
The  stream  settles  of  itself  by  rest  and  time;  the  im- 
pure particles  fly  off,  or  are  neutralized  by  the  healthful. 
It  is  only  fools  that  call  the  works  of  a  master-spirit 
immoral.  There  does  not  exist  in  the  literature  of  the 
world  one  popular  book  that  is  immoral  two  centuries 
after  it  is  produced.  For,  in  the  heart  of  nations,  the 
false  does  not  live  so  long;  and  the  true  is  the  ethical 
to  the  end  of  time. 

From  the  literary,  Maltravers  turned  to  the  political 
state  of  France  his  curious  and  thoughtful  eye.  He  was 
struck  by  the  resemblance  which  this  nation  —  so  civi- 
lized, so  thoroughly  European  —  bears  in  one  respect  to 
the  despotisms  of  the  East:  the  convulsions  of  the  capi- 
tal decide  the  fate  of  the  country;  Paris  is  the  tyrant  of 
France.  He  saw  in  this  inflammable  concentration  of 
power,  which  must  ever  be  pregnant  with  great  evils, 
one  of  the  causes  why  the  revolutions  of  that  powerful 
and  polished  people  are  so  incomplete  and  imsatisfac- 
tory,  —  why,  like  Cardinal  Fleury,  system  after  system, 
and  government  after  government, 

"  floruit  sine  fructu, 
Defloruit  sine  luctu."  ^ 

Maltravers  regarded  it  as  a  singular  instance  of  per- 
verse ratiocination  that,  unwarned  by  experience,  the 
French  should  still  persist  in  perpetuating  this  political 

*  Flourished  without  fruit,  and  was  destroyed  without  regret. 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  329 

vice;  that  all  their  policy  should  still  be  the  policy  of 
centralization,  —  a  principle  which  secures  the  momen- 
tary strength,  but  ever  ends  in  the  abrupt  destruction, 
of  states.  It  is,  in  fact,  the  perilous  tonic  which 
seems  to  brace  the  system,  but  drives  the  blood  to  the 
head,  —  tlius  come  apoplexy  and  madness.  By  centrali- 
zation the  provinces  are  weakened,  it  is  true;  but  weak 
to  assist  as  well  as  to  oppose  a  government,  —  weak  to 
withstand  a  mob.  Nowhere,  nowadays,  is  a  mob  so 
powerful  as  in  Paris;  the  political  history  of  Paris  is 
the  history  of  mobs.  Centralization  is  an  excellent 
quackery  for  a  despot  who  desires  power  to  last  only 
his  own  life,  and  who  has  but  a  life-interest  in  the 
state;  but  to  true  liberty  and  permanent  order,  centrali- 
zation is  a  deadly  poison.  The  more  the  provinces 
govern  their  own  affairs,  the  more  we  find  everything, 
even  to  roads  and  post-horses,  is  left  to  the  people ;  the 
more  the  municipal  spirit  pervades  every  vein  of  the 
vast  body,  the  more  certain  may  we  be  that  reform  and 
change  must  come  from  vmiversal  opinion,  which  is 
slow,  and  constructs  ere  it  destroys, — not  from  public 
clamor,  which  is  sudden,  and  not  only  pulls  down  the 
edifice,  but  sells  the  bricks. 

Another  peculiarity  in  the  French  constitution  struck 
and  perplexed  Maltravers.  This  people,  so  pervaded 
by  the  republican  sentiment;  this  people,  who  had 
sacrificed  so  much  for  freedom;  this  people,  who,  in 
the  name  of  freedom,  had  perpetrated  so  much  crime 
with  Robespierre,  and  achieved  so  much  glory  with 
Napoleon,  —  this  people  were,  as  a  people,  contented 
to  be  utterly  excluded  from  all  power  and  voice  in  the 
state!  Out  of  thirty-three  millions  of  subjects,  less 
than  two  hundred  thousand  electors!  Where  was  there 
ever  an   oligarchy  equal  to  this?     What  a  strange  in* 


330  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

fatuation,  to  demolish  an  aristocracy  and  yet  to  exclude 
a  people!  What  an  anomaly  in  political  architecture, 
to  build  an  inverted  pyramid!  Where  was  the  safety- 
valve  of  governments,  —  where  the  natural  events  of  ex- 
citement in  a  population  so  inflammable  ?  The  people 
itself  were  left  a  mob:  no  stake  in  the  state,  no  action 
in  its  afifairs,  no  legislative  interest  in  its  security,  i 

On  the  other  hand ,  it  was  singular  to  see  how  —  the 
aristocracy  of  birth  broken  down  —  the  aristocracy  of 
letters  had  risen.  A  peerage,  half  composed  of  jour- 
nalists, philosophers,  and  authors!  This  was  the  beau 
ideal  of  Algernon  Sydney's  Aristocratic  Republic;  of 
the  Helvetian  visions  of  what  ought  to  be  the  dispensa- 
tion of  public  distinctions:  yet  was  it,  after  all,  a  de- 
sirable aristocracy  1  Did  society  gain  ?  Did  literature 
lose  ?  Was  the  priesthood  of  genius  made  more  sacred 
and  more  pure  by  these  worldly  decorations  and  hollow 
titles;  or  was  aristocracy  itself  thus  rendered  a  more 
disinterested,  a  more  powerful,  or  more  sagacious  ele- 
ment in  the  administration  of  law,  or  the  elevation  of 
opinion?  These  questions,  not  lightly  to  be  answered, 
could  not  fail  to  arouse  the  speculation  and  curiosity 
of  a  man  who  had  been  familiar  with  the  closet  and 
the  forum;  and  in  proportion  as  he  found  his  in- 
terest excited  in  these  problems  to  be  solved  by  a 
foreign  nation,  did  the  thoughtful  Englishman  feel  the 
old  instinct,  which  binds  the  citizen  to  the  fatherland, 
begin  to  stir  once  more  earnestly  and  vividly  within 
him. 

"You,  yourself  individually,  are    passing  like  us," 

said  De  Montaigne  one  day  to  Maltravers,  "through  a 

state  of  transition.     You  have  forever   left   the    ideal, 

and  you  are  carr3'ing  your  cargo  of  experience  over  to 

I  Has  not  all  this  proved  prophetic  ? 


ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  331 

the  practical.      When  you  reach  that  haven,  yon  will 
have  completed  the  development  of  your  forces." 
"  You  mistake  me ;  I  am  but  a  spectator. " 
**  Yes;  but  you  desire  to  go  behind  the  scenes.     And 
he  who  once  grows  familiar  with  the  green-room  longs 
to  be  an  actor." 

With  Madame  de  Ventadour  and  the  De  Montaignes, 
Maltravers  passed  the  chief  part  of  his  time.  They 
knew  how  to  appreciate  his  nobler,  and  to  love  his 
gentler,  attributes  and  qualities;  they  united  in  a  warm 
interest  for  his  future  fate;  they  combated  his  philoso- 
phy of  inaction;  and  they  felt  that  it  was  because  ho 
was  not  happy  that  he  was  not  wise.  Experience  was 
to  him  what  ignorance  had  been  to  Alice.  His  faculties 
were  chilled  and  dormant.  As  affection  to  those  who 
are  unskilled  in  all  things,  so  is  affection  to  those  who 
despair  of  all  things.  The  mind  of  Maltravers  was  a 
world  without  a  sun! 


332  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Coelebs  quid  agam  ?  i  —  Horat. 

In  a  room  at  Fenton's  Hotel  sat  Lord  Vargrave  and 
Caroline,  Lady  Doltimore,  two  months  after  the  mar- 
riage of  the  latter. 

"  Doltimore  has  positively  fixed,  then,  to  go  abroad, 
on  your  return  from  Cornwall  1  " 

"  Positively,  —  to  Paris.  You  can  join  us  at  Christ- 
mas,  I  trust  1 " 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  it ;  and  before  then  I  hope  that 
I  shall  have  arranged  certain  public  matters  which  at 
present  harass  and  absorb  me  even  more  than  my  private 
affairs. " 

"  You  have  managed  to  obtain  terms  with  Mr.  Douce, 
and  to  delay  the  repayment  of  your  debt  to  him  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  hope  so,  till  I  touch  Miss  Cameron's  in- 
come; which  will  be  mine,  I  trust,  by  the  time  she  is 
eighteen." 

"  You  mean  the  forfeit  money  of  £30,000?" 

"  Not  I ,  —  I  mean  what  I  said !  " 

"  Can  you  really  imagine  she  will  still  accept  your 
hand  'i  " 

"With  your  aid  I  do  imagine  it!  Hear  me.  You 
must  take  Evelyn  with  you  to  Paris.  I  have  no  doubt 
but  that  she  will  be  delighted  to  accompany  you;  nay, 
I  have  paved  the  way  so  far.  For  of  course,  as  a  friend 
of  the  family  and  guardian  to  Evelyn,  I  have  main- 
tained a  correspondence  with  Lady  Vargrave.  She  in- 
1  What  shall  I  do,  a  bachelor  ? 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  333 

forms  me  that  Evelyn  has  been  unwell  and  low-spirited; 
that  she  fears  Brook-Green  is  dull  for  her,  etc.  I  wrote, 
in  reply,  to  say  that  the  more  my  ward  saw  of  the 
world  prior  to  her  accession,  when  of  age,  to  the  posi- 
tion she  would  occupy  in  it,  the  more  she  would  fulfil 
my  late  uncle's  wishes  Avith  respect  to  her  education, 
and  so  forth.  I  added,  that  as  you  were  going  to  Paris, 
and  as  you  loved  her  so  much,  there  could  not  be  a 
better  opportunity  for  her  entrance  into  life,  under  the 
most  favorable  auspices.  Lady  Vargrave's  answer  to 
this  letter  arrived  this  morning;  she  will  consent  to 
such  an  arrangement,  should  you  propose  it," 

"  But  what  good  will  result  to  yourself  in  this  pro- 
ject?    At  Paris  you  will  be  sure  of  rivals,  and  —  " 

"  Caroline,"  interrupted  Lord  Vargrave,  "  I  know  very 
well  what  you  would  say ;  I  also  know  all  the  danger  I 
must  incur.  But  it  is  a  choice  of  evils,  and  I  choose 
the  least.  You  see  that  while  she  is  at  Brook-Green, 
and  under  the  eye  of  that  sly  old  curate,  I  can  effect 
nothing  with  her.  There  she  is  entirely  removed  from 
my  influence;  not  so  abroad,  — not  so  under  your  roof. 
Listen  to  me  still  further.  In  this  country,  and  espe- 
cially in  the  seclusion  and  shelter  of  Brook-Green,  I 
have  no  scope  for  any  of  those  means  which  I  shall  be 
compelled  to  resort  to,  in  failure  of  all  else." 

"  What  can  you  intend  1  "  said  Caroline,  with  a  slight 
shudder. 

"  I  don't  know  what  I  intend  yet.  But  this,  at  least, 
I  can  tell  you,  —  that  Miss  Cameron's  fortune  I  must 
and  will  have.  I  am  a  desperate  man;  and  I  can  play 
a  desperate  game,  if  need  be." 

"  And  do  you  think  that  /will  aid,  —  will  abet?  " 

"Hush,  not  so  loud!  Yes,  Caroline,  you  will,  and 
you  must  aid  and  abet  me  in  any  project  I  may  form." 


334  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

"  Must !  Lord  Vargrave  1  " 

"Ay!"  said  Lumley,  with  a  smile,  and  sinking  his 
voice  into  a  whisper,  — "  ay!  you  are  in  my  power  /  " 

"Traitor!  you  cannot  dare !  you  cannot  mean  —  " 

"  I  mean  nothing  more  than  to  remind  you  of  the  ties 
that  exist  between  us,  —  ties  which  ought  to  render  us 
the  firmest  and  most  confidential  of  friends.  Come, 
Caroline,  recollect  all  the  benefits  must  not  lie  on  one 
side.  I  have  obtained  for  you  rank  and  wealth;  I  have 
procured  you  a  husband,  —  you  must  help  me  to  a 
wife!" 

Caroline  sank  back  and  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands. 

"I  allow,"  continued  Vargrave,  coldly, — "I  allow 
that  your  beauty  and  talent  were  sufficient  of  them- 
selves to  charm  a  wiser  man  than  Doltimore ;  but  had  I 
not  suppressed  jealousy,  sacrificed  love;  had  I  dropped 
a  hint  to  your  liege  lord;  nay,  had  I  not  fed  his  lapdog 
vanity  by  all  the  cream  and  sugar  of  flattering  falsehoods, 
—  you  would  be  Caroline  Merton  still!  " 

"Oh,  would  that  I  were!  Oh,  that  I  were  anything 
but  your  tool ,  —  your  victim !  Fool  that  I  was !  Wretch 
that  I  am  !     I  am  rightly  punished !  " 

"Forgive  me,  —  forgive  me,  dearest,"  said  Vargrave, 
soothingly.  "I  was  to  blame,  forgive  me;  but  you  irri- 
tated, you  maddened  me,  by  your  seeming  indifference 
to  my  prosperity,  my  fate.  I  tell  you  again  and  again, 
pride  of  my  soul,  I  tell  you  that  you  are  the  only  being 
I  love!  and  if  you  will  allow  me,  —  if  you  will  rise 
superior,  as  I  once  fondly  hoped,  to  all  the  cant  and 
prejudice  of  convention  and  education, —  the  only  woman 
I  could  ever  respect  as  well  as  love.  Oh,  hereafter, 
when  you  see  me  at  that  height  to  which  I  feel  that  I 
am  bom  to  climb,  let  me  think  that  to  your  generosity, 


ALICE;  OK,  THE   MYSTERIES.  335 

your  affection,  your  zeal,  I  owed  the  ascent.  At  present 
I  am  on  the  precipice ;  without  your  hand  I  fall  for- 
ever. My  own  fortune  is  gone;  the  miserable  forfeit 
due  to  me  if  Evelyn  continues  to  reject  my  suit,  when 
she  has  arrived  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  is  deeply  mort- 
gaged. I  am  engaged  in  vast  and  daring  schemes,  in 
which  I  may  either  rise  to  the  highest  station,  or  lose 
that  which  I  now  hold.  In  either  case,  how  necessary 
to  me  is  wealth :  in  the  one  instance,  to  maintain  my 
advancement;  in  the  other,  to  redeem  my  fall." 

"But  did  you  not  tell  me,"  said  Caroline,  "that 
Evelyn  proposed  and  promised  to  place  her  fortune  at 
your  disposal,  even  while  rejecting  your  hand?" 

"  Absurd  mockery !  "  exclaimed  Vargrave ;  "  the  fool- 
ish boast  of  a  girl,  — an  impulse  liable  to  every  caprice. 
Can  you  suppose  that  when  she  launches  into  the  ex- 
travagance natural  to  her  age  and  necessary  to  her 
position,  she  will  not  find  a  thousand  demands  upon 
her  rent-roll  not  dreamed  of  now,  —  a  thousand  vanities 
and  bawbles  that  will  soon  erase  my  poor  and  hollow 
claim  from  her  recollection?  Can  you  suppose  that  if 
she  marry  another,  her  husband  will  ever  consent  to  a 
child's  romance?  And  even  were  all  this  possible, 
were  it  possible  that  girls  were  not  extravagant,  and 
that  husbands  had  no  common-sense,  is  it  for  me,  Lord 
Vargrave,  to  be  a  mendicant  upon  reluctant  bounty,  a 
poor  cousin,  a  pensioned  led-captain?  Heaven  knows, 
I  have  as  little  false  pride  as  any  man,  but  still  this  is 
a  degradation  I  cannot  stoop  to.  Besides,  Caroline,  I 
am  no  miser,  no  Harpagon:  I  do  not  want  wealth  for 
vrealth's  sake,  but  for  the  advantages  it  bestows,  —  re- 
spect, honor,  position;  and  these  I  get  as  the  husband 
of  the  great  heiress.  Should  I  get  them  as  her  depend- 
ant?    No;  for  more  than   six  years  I   have   built   my 


336  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

schemes  and  shaped  my  conduct  according  to  one  as- 
sured and  definite  object;  and  that  object  I  shall  not 
now,  in  the  eleventh  hour,  let  slip  from  my  hands. 
Enough  of  this :  you  will  pass  Brook-Green  in  return- 
ing from  Cornwall ;  you  will  take  Evelyn  with  you  to 
Paris,  —  leave  the  rest  to  me.  Fear  no  folly,  no  vio- 
lence, from  my  plans,  whatever  they  may  be:  I  work  in 
the  dark.  Nor  do  I  despair  that  Evelyn  will  love,  that 
Evelyn  will  voluntarily  accept  me  yet.  My  disposition 
is  sanguine;  I  look  to  the  bright  side  of  things.  Do 
the  same !  " 

Here  their  conference  was  interrupted  by  Lord  Dolti- 
more,  who  lounged  carelessly  into  the  room  with  his 
hat  on  one  side.  "Ah,  Vargrave,  how  are  you?  You 
will  not  forget  the  letters  of  introduction  ?  Where  are 
you  going,  Caroline  ?  " 

"Only  to  my  own  room,  to  put  on  my  bonnet;  the 
carriage  will  be  here  in  a  few  minutes."  And  Caroline 
escaped. 

"  So  you  go  to  Cornwall  to-morrow,  Doltimore  1  " 

"Yes;  cursed  bore!  but  Lady  Elizabeth  insists  on 
seeing  us,  and  I  don't  object  to  a  week's  good  shooting. 
The  old  lady,  too,  has  something  to  leave,  and  Caroline 
had  no  dowry,  — not  that  I  care  for  it;  but  still  marriage 
is  expensive." 

"  By  the  bye,  you  will  want  the  five  thousand  pounds 
you  lent  me?  " 

"  Why,  whenever  it  is  convenient." 

"  Say  no  more,  —  it  shall  be  seen  to.  Doltimore,  I 
am  very  anxious  that  Lady  Doltimore's  debut  at  Paris 
should  be  brilliant;  everything  depends  on  falling  into 
the  right  set.  For  myself,  I  don't  care  about  fashion, 
and  never  did;  but  if  I  were  married,  and  an  idle  man 
like  you,  it  might  be  different." 


ALICE;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  837 

"  Oh,  you  will  be  very  useful  to  us  when  we  return  to 
London.  Meanwhile,  you  know,  you  have  my  proxy 
in  the  Lords.  I  daresay  there  will  be  some  sharp  work 
the  first  week  or  two  after  the  recess. " 

"  Very  likely ;  and  depend  on  one  thing,  my  dear 
Doltimore,  that  when  I  am  in  the  Cabinet,  a  certain 
friend  of  mine  shall  be  an  earl.     Adieu." 

"  Good-by,  my  dear  Vargrave,  good-by ;  and,  I  say,  — 
I  say,  don't  distress  yourself  about  that  trifle.  A  few 
months  hence  it  will  suit  me  just  as  well." 

"Thanks;  I  will  just  look  into  my  accounts,  and 
use  you  without  ceremony.  Well,  I  daresay  we  shall 
meet  at  Paris.  Oh,  I  forgot!  —  I  observe  that  you  have 
renewed  your  intimacy  with  Legard.  Now,  he  is  a 
very  good  fellow,  and  I  gave  him  that  place  to  oblige 
you;  still,  as  you  are  no  longer  a  gargon — ■  but  perhaps 
I  shall  offend  you  1  " 

"  Not  at  all.     What  is  there  against  Legard  1  " 

"  Nothing  in  the  world ;  but  he  is  a  bit  of  a  boaster. 
I  daresay  his  ancestor  was  a  Gascon,  —  poor  fellow!  — 
and  he  affects  to  say  that  you  can't  choose  a  coat,  or  buy 
a  horse,  without  his  approval  and  advice :  that  he  can 
turn  you  round  his  finger.  Now,  this  hurts  your  con- 
sequence in  the  world;  you  don't  get  credit  for  your 
own  excellent  sense  and  taste.  Take  my  advice,  avoid 
these  young  hangers-on  of  fashion,  these  club-room  lions. 
Having  no  importance  of  their  own,  they  steal  the  im- 
portance of  their  friends.      Verhum  sap." 

"You  are  very  right,  —  Legard  is  a  coxcomb;  and 
now  I  see  why  he  talked  of  joining  us  at  Paris." 

"  Don't  let  him  do  any  such  thing!  He  will  be  tell- 
ing the  Frenchmen  that  her  ladyship  is  in  love  with 
him,  —  ha!  ha!  " 

22 


338  ALICE;  OR,   THE  MYSTERIES. 

"  Ha !  ha !  —  a  very  good  joke :  poor  Caroline !  —  very 
good  joke!  " 

"  Well,  good-by  once  more."  And  Vargrave  closed 
the  door. 

"Legard  go  to  Paris, — not  if  Evelyn  goes  there!" 
muttered  Lumley.  "  Besides,  I  want  no  partner  in  the 
little  that  one  can  screw  out  of  this  blockhead. " 


ALICE;  OR,   THE  MYSTERIES.  339 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Mr.  Bumblecase,  a  word  vnth  you,  —  I  have  a  little  business. 

Farewell,  the  goodly  Manor  of  Blackacre,  with  all  its  woods,  un- 
derwoods, and  appurtenances  whatever !  —  Wycherley  ;  Plain 
Dealer. 

In  quitting  Fenton's  Hotel,  Lord  Vargrave  entered  into 
one  of  the  clubs  in  St.  James's  Street;  this  was  rather 
unusual  with  him,  for  he  was  not  a  club-man.  It  was 
not  his  system  to  spend  his  time  for  nothing.  But  it 
was  a  wet  December  day,  the  House  not  yet  assem- 
bled, and  he  had  done  his  official  business.  Here,  as 
he  was  munching  a  biscuit,  and  reading  an  article  in  one 
of  the  ministerial  papers,  —  the  heads  of  which  he  him- 
self had  supplied, — Lord  Saxingham  joined  and  drew 
him  to  the  window. 

"I  have  reason  to  think,"  said  the  earl,  "that  your 
visit  to  Windsor  did  good." 

"Ah,  indeed;  so  I  fancied." 

"I  do  not  think  that  a  certain  personage  will  ever 

consent  to  the question ;  and  the  premier,  whom  I 

saw  to-day,  seems  chafed  and  irritated." 

"  Nothing  can  be  better ;  I  know  that  we  are  in  the 
right  boat." 

"  I  hope  it  is  not  true,  Lumley,  that  your  marriage 
with  Miss  Cameron  is  broken  off;  such  was  the  on  dit 
in  the  club  just  before  you  entered." 

"  Contradict  it,  my  dear  lord,  —  contradict  it.  I  hope 
by  the  spring  to  introduce  Lady  Vargrave  to  you.  But 
who  broached  the  absurd  report  ? " 


340  ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

"  Why,  your  proteye,  Legard,  says  he  heard  so  from 
his  uncle,  who  heard  it  from  Sir  John  ]\[erton." 

"  Legard  is  a  puppy,  and  Sir  John  Merton  a  jackass. 
Legard  had  better  attend  to  his  office,  if  he  wants  to  get 
on ;  and  I  wish  you  'd  tell  him  so.  I  have  heard  some- 
where that  he  talks  of  going  to  Paris;  you  can  just 
hint  to  him  that  he  must  give  up  such  idle  habits. 
Public  functionaries  are  not  now  what  they  were :  people 
are  expected  to  work  for  the  money  they  pocket; 
otherwise  Legard  is  a  cleverish  fellow,  and  deserves 
promotion.  A  word  or  two  of  caution  from  you  will 
do  him  a  vast  deal  of  good." 

"  Be  sure  I  will  lecture  him.  Will  you  dine  with 
me  to-day,  Lumley  1  " 

"No.  I  expect  my  co-trustee,  Mr.  Douce,  on  matters 
of  business,  — a  tete-a-tete  dinner." 

Lord  Vargrave  had,  as  he  conceived,  very  cleverly 
talked  over  Mr.  Douce  into  letting  his  debt  to  that  gen- 
tleman run  on  for  the  present;  and  in  the  mean  while, 
he  had  overwhelmed  Mr.  Douce  with  his  condescen- 
sions. That  gentleman  had  twice  dined  with  Lord 
Vargrave;  and  Lord  Vargrave  had  twice  dined  with 
him.  The  occasion  of  the  present  more  familiar  enter- 
tainment was  in  a  letter  from  Mr.  Douce,  begging  to  see 
Lord  Vargrave  on  particular  business;  and  Vargrave, 
who  by  no  means  liked  the  word  business  from  a  gen- 
tleman to  whom  he  owed  money,  thought  that  it  would 
go  off  more  smoothly  if  sprinkled  with  champagne. 

Accordingly,  he  begged  "  my  dear  Mr.  Douce  "  to  ex- 
cuse ceremony,  and  dine  with  him  on  Thursday  at 
seven  o'clock,  — he  was  really  so  busy  all  the  mornings. 

At  seven  o'clock  Mr.  Douce  came.  The  moment  he 
entered,  Vargrave  called  out,  at  the  top  of  his  voice, 
"  Dinner  immediately !  "     And  as  the  little  man  bowed 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  341 

and  shuffled  and  fidgeted  and  wriggled  (while  Var- 
grave  shook  him  by  the  hand),  as  if  he  thought  he 
was  going  himself  to  be  spitted,  his  host  said,  "  With 
your  leave,  we  '11  postpone  the  budget  till  after  dinner. 
It  is  the  fashion  nowadays  to  postpone  budgets  as  long  as 
we  can,  —  eh?  Well,  and  how  are  all  at  home?  Dev- 
ilish cold,  is  it  not?  So  you  go  to  your  villa  every 
day  1  That 's  what  keeps  you  in  such  capital  health. 
You  know  I  had  a  villa  too,  though  I  never  had  time 
to  go  there." 

"Ah,  yes, — I  think,  I  remember,  at  Ful-Ful-I'ul- 
ham!  "  gasped  out  Mr.  Douce.  "  Your  poor  uncle's,  — 
now  Lady  Var-Var-Vargrave's  jointure-house.  So  — 
so  — 

"She  don't  live  there!  "  burst  in  Yargrave  (far  too 
impatient  to  be  polite).  "Too  cockueyhed  for  her; 
gave  it  up  to  me,  —  very  pretty  place,  but  d d  expen- 
sive. I  could  not  afford  it;  never  went  there,  — and  so 
I  have  let  it  to  my  wine-merchant;  the  rent  just  pays 
his  bill.  You  will  taste  some  of  the  sofas  and  tables 
to-day  in  his  champagne.  I  don't  know  how  it  is,  I 
always  fancy  my  sherry  smells  like  my  poor  uncle's  old 
leather  chair;  very  odd  smell  it  had,  —  a  kind  of  re- 
spectable smell!  I  hope  you're  hungry;  dinner's 
ready." 

Yargrave  thus  rattled  away  in  order  to  give  the  good 
banker  to  understand  that  his  affairs  were  in  the  most 
flourishing  condition ;  and  he  continued  to  keep  up  the 
ball  all  dinner-time,  stopping  Mr.  Douce's  little  miser- 
able, gasping,  dace-like  mouth  with  "  a  glass  of  wine, 
Douce!  "  or  "  by  the  bye.  Douce,"  whenever  he  saw  that 
worthy  gentleman  about  to  make  the  ^scliylean  im- 
provement of  a  second  person  in  the  dialogue. 

At  length,  dinner  being  fairly  over,  and  the  servants 


3-42  ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTEKIES. 

withdrawn,  Lord  Vargrave,  knowing  tliat  sooner  oi 
later  Douce  would  have  his  say,  drew  his  chair  to  the 
fire,  put  his  feet  on  the  fender,  and  cried,  as  he  tossed 
off  his  claret,  "  Now,  Douce,  what  can  I  do  for 
YOU  ? " 

Mr.  Douce  opened  his  eyes  to  their  full  extent,  and 
then  as  rapidly  closed  them;  and  this  operation  he  con- 
tinued till,  having  snuffed  them  so  much  that  they 
could  by  no  possibility  burn  any  brighter,  he  was  con- 
vinced that  he  had  not  misunderstood  his  lordship. 

"Indeed,  then,"  he  began,  in  his  most  frightened 
manner,  "  indeed  —  I  —  really,  your  lordship  is  very  good 

—  I  —  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you  on  business. " 

"  Well,  what  can  I  do  for  you,  —  some  little  favor, 
eh  ?  Snug  sinecure  for  a  favorite  clerk ,  or  a  place  in  the 
Stamp  Office  for  your  fat  footman,  — John,  I  think  you 
call  him?  You  know,  my  dear  Douce,  you  may  com- 
mand me." 

"Oh,  indeed;   you  are  all  good-good-goodness  —  but 

—  but—" 

Vargrave  threw  himself  back,  and  shutting  his  eyes 
and  pursing  up  his  mouth,  resolutely  suffered  Mr.  Douce 
to  unbosom  himself  without  interruption.  He  was  con- 
siderably relieved  to  find  that  the  business  referred  to 
related  only  to  Miss  Cameron.  Mr.  Douce  having  re- 
minded Lord  Vargrave,  as  he  had  often  done  before,  of 
the  wishes  of  his  uncle,  that  the  greater  portion  of  the 
money  bequeathed  to  Evelyn  should  be  invested  in  land, 
proceeded  to  say  that  a  most  excellent  opportunity  pre- 
sented itself  for  just  such  a  purchase  as  would  have 
rejoiced  the  heart  of  the  late  lord.  A  superb  place,  in 
the  style  of  Blickling:  deer-park  six  miles  round; 
10,000  acres  of  land,  bringing  in  a  clear  £8,000  a  year; 
purchase-money  only  £240,000.     The  whole  estate  was, 


ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  343 

indeed,  much  larger,  — 18,000  acres;  but  then  the  more 
distant  farms  could  be  sold  in  different  lots,  in  order  to 
meet  the  exact  sum  Miss  Cameron's  trustees  were  en- 
abled to  invest. 

"  Well,"  said  Vargrave,  "  and  where  is  it?  My  poor 
uncle  was  after  De  Clitford's  estate,  but  the  title  was 
not  good." 

"  Oh !  this  —  is  much  —  much  —  much  fi-fi-finer ; 
famovis  investment  —  but  rather  far  off  —  in  —  in  the 
north.     Li-Li-Lisle  Court." 

"  Lisle  Court  1  Why,  does  not  that  belong  to  Colonel 
Maltravers  1 '' 

"  Yes.  It  is,  indeed,  quite,  I  may  say,  a  secret — -yes 
—  really  —  a  se-se-secret  —  not  in  the  market  yet  —  not 
at  all  —  soon  snapped  up. " 

*' Humph  1  Has  Colonel  Maltravers  been  extrava- 
gant?" 

"  No ;  but  he  does  not  —  I  hear  —  or  rather  Lady  — ■ 
Julia  —  so  I'm  told,  yes,  indeed  —  does  not  li-like  — 
going  so  far,  and  so  they  spend  the  winter  in  Italy  in- 
stead.    Yes  —  very  odd  —  very  fine  place. " 

Lumley  was  slightly  acquainted  with  the  elder  brotlier 
of  his  old  friend:  a  man  who  possessed  some  of  Ernest's 
faults,  —  very  proud  and  very  exacting  and  very  fas- 
tidious; but  all  these  faults  were  developed  in  the 
ordinary  commonplace  world,  and  were  not  the  refined 
abstractions  of  his  younger  brother. 

Colonel  Maltravers  had  continued,  since  he  entered 
the  Guards,  to  be  thoroughly  the  man  of  fashion,  and 
nothing  more.  But  rich,  and  well-born,  and  highly 
connected,  and  thoroughly  a  la  mode  as  he  was,  his 
pride  made  him  uncomfortable  in  London,  while  his 
fastidiousness  made  him  uncomfortable  in  the  coimtry. 
He  was  rather  a  great  person,  but  he  wanted  to  be  a 


344  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

very  great  person.  This  he  was  at  Lisle  Court;  but 
that  did  not  satisfy  him;  he  wanted  not  only  to  be  a 
very  great  person,  but  a  very  great  person  among  very 
great  persons,  —  and  squires  and  parsons  bored  him. 
Lady  Julia,  his  wife,  was  a  fine  lady,  inane  and  pretty, 
who  saw  everything  through  her  husband's  eyes.  He 
was  quite  master  chez  lui,  was  Colonel  Maltravers! 
He  lived  a  great  deal  abroad;  for  on  the  Continent  his 
large  income  seemed  princely,  while  his  high  character, 
thorough  breeding,  and  personal  advantages,  which  were 
remarkable,  secured  him  a  greater  position  in  foreign 
courts  than  at  his  own.  Two  things  had  greatly  dis- 
gusted him  with  Lisle  Court,  —  trifles  they  might  be 
with  others,  but  they  were  not  trifles  to  Cuthbert  Mal- 
travers: in  the  first  place,  a  man  who  had  been  his 
father's  attorney,  and  who  was  the  very  incarnation  of 
coarse  unrepellible  familiarity,  had  bought  an  estate 
close  by  the  said  Lisle  Court,  and  had,  horresco  ref evens, 
been  made  a  baronet!  Sir  Gregory  Gubbins  took  pre- 
cedence of  Colonel  Maltravers!  He  could  not  ride  out 
but  he  met  Sir  Gregory ;  he  could  not  dine  out  but  he 
had  the  pleasure  of  walking  behind  Sir  Gregory's  bright 
blue  coat  with  its  bright  brass  buttons.  In  his  last  visit 
to  Lisle  Court,  which  he  had  then  crowded  with  all  man- 
ner of  fine  people,  he  had  seen,  — the  very  first  morning 
after  his  arrival,  —  seen  from  the  large  window  of  his 
state  saloon,  a  great  staring  white,  red,  blue,  and  gilt 
thing,  at  the  end  of  the  stately  avenue  planted  by 
Sir  Guy  Maltravers  in  honor  of  the  Victory  over  the 
Spanish  Armada.  He  looked  in  mute  surprise,  and 
everybody  else  looked;  and  a  polite  German  count, 
gazing  through  his  eye-glass,  said,  "Ah!  dat  is  vat 
you  call  a  vim  in  your  pays,  —  the  vim  of  Colonel 
Maltravers  I  " 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  345 

This  "  vim "  was  the  pagoda  siimmerhouse  of  Sir 
Gregory  Gubbins,  erected  in  imitation  of  the  Pavilion 
at  Brighton.  Colonel  Maltravers  was  miserable :  the 
vim  haunted  him,  —  it  seemed  ubiquitous ;  he  could 
not  escape  it;  it  was  built  on  the  highest  spot  in  the 
county:  ride,  walk,  sit  where  he  would,  the  vim  stared 
at  him;  and  he  thought  he  saw  little  mandarins  shake 
their  round  little  heads  at  him.  This  was  one  of  the 
great  curses  of  Lisle  Court,  —  the  other  was  yet  more 
galling.  The  owners  of  Lisle  Court  had  for  several  gen- 
erations possessed  the  dominant  interest  in  the  county 
town.  The  colonel  himself  meddled  little  in  politics, 
and  was  too  fine  a  gentleman  for  the  drudgery  of  Par- 
liament: he  had  offered  the  seat  to  Ernest,  when  the 
latter  had  commenced  his  public  career;  but  the  result 
of  a  communication  proved  that  their  political  views 
were  dissimilar,  and  the  negotiation  dropped  without 
ill-feeling  on  either  side.  Subsequently  a  vacancy  oc- 
curred; and  Lady  Julia's  brother  (just  made  a  Lord  of 
the  Treasury)  wished  to  come  into  Parliament,  so  the 
county  town  was  offered  to  him.  Now,  the  proud  com- 
moner had  married  into  the  family  of  a  peer  as  proud 
as  himself,  and  Colonel  Maltravers  was  always  glad 
whenever  he  could  impress  his  consequence  on  his  con- 
nections by  doing  them  a  favor.  He  wrote  to  his 
steward  to  see  that  the  thing  was  properly  settled,  and 
came  down  on  the  nomination-day  "  to  share  the  tri- 
umph and  partake  the  gale."  Guess  his  indignation, 
when  he  found  the  nephew  of  Sir  Gregory  Gubbins  was 
already  in  the  field!  The  result  of  the  election  was, 
that  Mr.  Augustus  Gubbins  came  in,  and  tliat  Colonel 
Maltravers  was  pelted  with  cabbage-stalks,  and  accused 
of  attempting  to  sell  the  worthy  and  independent  elec- 
tors to  a  government  nominee !     In  shame  and  disgust, 


346  ALICE;  OR,  THE  MYSTERIES. 

Colonel  Maltravers  broke  up  his  establishment  at  Lisle 
Court,  and  once  more  retired  to  the  Continent. 

About  a  week  from  the  date  now  touched  upon,  Lady 
Julia  and  himself  had  arrived  in  London  from  Vienna ; 
and  a  new  mortification  awaited  the  unfortunate  OAvner 
of  Lisle  Court.  A  railroad  company  had  been  estab- 
lished, of  which  Sir  Gregory  Gubbins  was  a  principal 
shareholder;  and  the  speculator, Mr.  Augustus  Gubbins, 
one  of  the  "  most  useful  men  in  the  house,"  had  xinder- 
taken  to  carry  the  bill  through  Parliament.  Colonel 
Maltravers  received  a  letter  of  portentous  size,  enclosing 
the  map  of  the  places  which  this  blessed  railway  was 
to  bisect;  and  lo!  just  at  the  bottom  of  his  park  ran  a 
portentous  line,  which  informed  him  of  the  sacrifice  he 
Avas  expected  to  make  for  the  public  good,  —  especially 
for  the  good  of  that  very  county  town,  the  inhabitants 
of  wliich  had  pelted  him  with  cabbage-stalks! 

Colonel  Maltravers  lost  all  patience.  Unacquainted 
with  our  wise  legislative  proceedings,  he  was  not  aware 
that  a  railway  planned  is  a  very  different  thing  from  a 
railway  made ;  and  that  parliamentary  committees  are 
not  by  any  means  favorable  to  schemes  for  carrying 
the  public  through  a  gentleman's  park. 

"  This  country  is  not  to  be  lived  in,"  said  he  to  Lady 
Julia ;  "  it  gets  worse  and  worse  every  year.  I  am  sure 
I  never  had  any  comfort  in  Lisle  Court.  I  've  a  great 
mind  to  sell  it." 

"  Why,  indeed,  as  we  have  no  sons,  only  daughters, 
and  Ernest  is  so  well  provided  for,"  said  Lady  Julia, 
"  and  the  place  is  so  far  from  London,  and  the  neighbor- 
hood is  so  disagreeable,  I  think  that  we  could  do  very 
well  without  it." 

Colonel  Maltravers  made  no  answer,  but  he  resolved 
the  pros  and  cons;  and  then  he  began  to  think  how 


atjce;  or,  the  mysteries.  347 

much  it  cost  him  in  gamekeepers  and  carpenters  and 
bailiffs  and  gardeners,  and  Heaven  knows  whom  be- 
sides ;  and  then  the  pagoda  flashed  across  him ;  and  then 
the  cabbage-stalks:  and  at  last  he  went  to  his  solicitor. 

"  You  may  sell  Lisle  Court,"  said  he,  quietly. 

The  solicitor  dipped  his  pen  in  the  ink.  "  The  par- 
ticulars, colonel?  " 

"Particulars  of  Lisle  Court!  everybody,  that  is,  every 
gentleman,  knows  Lisle  Court!  " 

"Price,  sir?" 

"You  know  the  rents, — calculate  accordingly.  It 
will  be  too  large  a  purchase  for  one  individual ;  sell 
the  outlying  woods  and  farms  separately  from  the  rest." 

"  We  must  draw  up  an  advertisement,  colonel." 

"Advertise  Lisle  Court!  —  out  of  the  question,  sir. 
I  can  have  no  publicity  given  to  my  intention:  mention 
it  quietly  to  any  capitalist,  but  keep  it  out  of  the  papers 
till  it  is  all  settled.  In  a  week  or  two  you  will  tiiid  a 
purchaser,  —  the  sooner  the  better. " 

Besides  his  horror  of  newspaper  comments  and  news- 
paper puffs,  Colonel  Maltravers  dreaded  that  his  brother 
—  then  in  Paris  —  should  learn  his  intention,  and  at- 
tempt to  thwart  it;  and,  somehow  or  other,  the  colonel 
was  a  little  in  awe  of  Ernest,  and  a  little  ashamed  of  his 
resolution.  He  did  not  know  that,  by  a  singular  coinci- 
dence, Ernest  himself  had  thought  of  selling  Burleigh. 

The  solicitor  was  by  no  means  pleased  with  this  way 
of  settling  the  matter.  However,  he  whispered  it  about 
that  Lisle  Court  was  in  the  market;  and  as  it  really  was 
one  of  the  most  celebrated  places  of  its  kind  in  England, 
the  whisper  spread  among  bankers,  and  brewers,  and 
soap-boilers,  and  other  rich  people,  —  the  Medici  of  the 
New  Noblesse  rising  up  amongst  us,  —  till  at  last  it 
reached  the  ears  of  Mr.  Douce. 


348  ALICE;  OR,  THE  MYSTERIES. 

Lord  Vargrave,  however  bad  a  man  he  might  be,  had 
not  many  of  those  vices  of  character  which  belong  to 
what  I  may  call  the  personal  class  of  vices,  —  that  is, 
he  had  no  ill-will  to  individuals.  He  was  not,  ordi- 
narily, a  jealous  man,  nor  a  spiteful,  nor  a  malignant, 
nor  a  vindictive  man:  his  vices  arose  from  utter  in- 
ditference  to  all  men,  and  all  things, — except  as  con- 
ducive to  his  own  ends.  He  would  not  have  injured 
a  worm  if  it  did  him  no  good,  but  he  would  have  set 
any  house  on  fire,  if  he  had  no  other  means  of  roasting 
his  own  eggs.  Yet  still,  if  any  feeling  of  personal 
rancor  could  harbor  in  his  breast,  it  was,  first,  towards 
Evelyn  Cameron;  and,  secondly,  towards  Ernest  Mal- 
travers.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life,  he  did  long  for 
revenge,  —  revenge  against  the  one  for  stealing  his 
patrimony,  and  refusing  liis  hand;  and  that  revenge 
he  hoped  to  gratify.  As  to  the  other,  it  was  not  so 
much  dislike  he  felt,  as  an  uneasy  sentiment  of  inferi- 
ority. However  well  he  himself  had  got  on  in  the 
world,  he  yet  grudged  the  reputation  of  a  man  whom 
he  had  remembered  a  wayward,  inexperienced  boy :  he 
did  not  love  to  hear  any  one  praise  Maltravers.  He 
fancied,  too,  that  this  feeling  was  reciprocal,  and  that 
Maltravers  was  pained  at  hearing  of  any  new  step  in  his 
own  career.  In  fact,  it  Avas  that  sort  of  jealousy  which 
men  often  feel  for  the  companions  of  their  youth,  whose 
characters  are  higher  than  their  own,  and  whose  talents 
are  of  an  order  they  do  not  quite  comprehend.  Now, 
it  certainly  did  seem,  at  that  moment,  to  Lord  Var- 
grave that  it  would  be  a  most  splendid  triumph  over 
Mr.  Maltravers  of  Burleigh,  to  be  lord  of  Lisle  Court, 
the  hereditary  seat  of  the  elder  branch  of  the  family :  to 
be,  as  it  were,  in  the  very  shoes  of  Mr.  Ernest  Mal- 
travers's  elder  brother.     He  knew,  too,  that   it  was  a 


AXICE;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  349 

property  of  great  consequence:  Lord  Vargrave  of  Lisle 
Court  would  hold  a  very  different  position  in  the  peerage 

from  Lord  Vargrave  of  ,  Fulham!     Nobody  would 

call  the  owner  of  Lisle  Court  an  adventurer;  nobody 
would  suspect  such  a  man  of  caring  three  straws  about 
place  and  salary.  And  if  he  married  Evelyn,  and  if 
Evelyn  bought  Lisle  Court,  would  not  Lisle  Court  be  his  1 
He  vaulted  over  the  i/s,  stiff  monosyllables  though  they 
were,  with  a  single  jump.  Besides,  even  should  the 
thing  come  to  nothing,  there  was  the  very  excuse  he 
sought  for  joining  Evelyn  at  Paris,  for  conversing  with 
her,  consulting  her.  It  was  true  that  the  will  of  the 
late  lord  left  it  solely  at  the  discretion  of  the  trustees 
to  select  such  landed  investment  as  seemed  best  to  them. 
But  still  it  was,  if  not  legally  necessary,  at  least  but  a 
proper  courtesy,  to  consult  Evelyn.  And  plans  and 
drawings  and  explanations  and  rent-rolls  would  justify 
him  in  spending  morning  after  morning  alone  with  her. 

Thus  cogitating.  Lord  Vargrave  suffered  Mr.  Douce 
to  stammer  out  sentence  upon  sentence,  till  at  length,  as 
he  rang  for  coffee,  his  lordship  stretched  himself  with 
the  air  of  a  man  stretching  himself  into  self-complacency 
or  a  good  thing,  and  said,  — 

"  Mr.  Douce,  I  will  go  down  to  Lisle  Court  as  soon  as 
I  can.  I  will  see  it;  I  will  ascertain  all  about  it;  I  will 
consider  favorably  of  it.  I  agree  with  you;  I  think  it 
will  do  famously." 

"But,"  said  Mr.  Douce,  who  seemed  singularly  anx- 
ious about  the  matter,  "we  must  make  haste,  my  lord; 
for  really  —  yes,  indeed  —  if  —  if  —  if  Baron  Eoths  — 
Rothschild  should  —  that  is  to  say  —  " 

"Oh,  yes;  I  understand, — keep  the  thing  close,  my 
dear  Douce;  make  friends  with  the  colonel's  lawyer; 
play  with  him  a  little,  till  I  can  run  down." 


350  ALICE;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES. 

"  Besides,  you  see,  you  are  such  a  good  man  of  busi- 
ness, my  lord  —  that  you  see,  that  —  yes,  really  —  there 
must  be  time  to  draw  out  the  purchase-money  —  sell  out 
at  a  prop  —  prop  —  " 

"  To  be  sure,  to  be  sure,  — bless  me,  how  late  it  isl 
I  am  afraid  my  carriage  is  ready !  I  must  go  to  Madame 
de  L 's." 

Mr.  Douce,  who  seemed  to  have  much  more  to  say, 
was  forced  to  keep  it  in  for  another  time,  and  to  take 
his  leave. 

Lord  Vargrave    went  to  Madame  de  L 's.     His 

position  in  what  is  called  exclusive  society  was  rather 
peculiar.  By  those  who  affected  to  be  the  best  judges, 
the  frankness  of  his  manner  and  the  easy  oddity  of  his 
conversation  were  pronounced  at  variance  with  the  tran- 
quil serenity  of  tiiorough  breeding.  But  still  he  was 
a  great  favorite  both  with  fine  ladies  and  dandies.  His 
handsome,  keen  countenance,  his  talents,  his  politics, 
his  intrigues,  and  an  animated  boldness  in  his  bearing, 
compensated  for  his  constant  violation  of  all  the  minutise 
of  orthodox  conventionalism. 

At  this  house  lie  met  Colonel  Maltravers,  and  took  an 
opportunity  to  renew  his  acquaintance  with  that  gen- 
tleman. He  then  referred,  in  a  confidential  whisper, 
to  the  communication  he  had  received  touching  Lisle 
Court. 

"Yes,"  said  the  colonel,  "I  suppose  I  must  sell  the 
place,  if  I  can  do  so  quietly.  To  be  sure,  when  I  first 
spoke  to  my  lawyer,  it  was  in  a  moment  of  vexation,  on 

hearing  that  the railroad  was   to   go    through    the 

park,  but  I  find  that  I  overrated  that  danger.  Still,  if 
you  will  do  me  the  honor  to  go  and  look  over  the  place, 
you  will  find  very  good  shooting;  and  when  you  come 
back,  you  can  see  if  it  will  suit  you.     Don't  say  any- 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  351 

thing  about  it  when  you  are  there ;  it  is  better  not  to 
publish  my  intention  all  over  the  county.  I  shall  have 
Sir  Gregory  Gubbins  offering  to  buy  it,  if  you  do!  " 

"  You  may  depend  on  my  discretion.  Have  you  heard 
anything  of  your  brother  lately  f  " 

"  Yes;  I  fancy  he  is  going  to  Switzerland.  He  would 
soon  be  in  England,  if  he  heard  I  was  going  to  part  with 
Lisle  Court!  " 

"  What,  it  would  vex  him  so  1  " 

**  I  fear  it  would ;  but  he  has  a  nice  old  place  of  his 
own,  not  half  so  large,  and  therefore  not  half  so  trouble- 
some as  Lisle  Court." 

"  Ay !  and  he  did  talk  of  selling  that  nice  old  place. " 

"Selling  Burleigh!  you  surprise  me.  But  really 
country  places  in  England  are  a  bore.  I  suppose  he 
has  his  Gubbins  as  well  as  myself!  " 

Here  the  chief  minister  of  the  government,  adorned 
by  Lord  Vargrave's  virtues,  passed  by,  and  Lumley 
turned  to  greet  him. 

The  two  ministers  talked  together  most  affectionately 
in  a  close  whisper,  —  so  affectionately  that  ob«  might 
have  seen,  with  half  an  eye,  that  they  hated  each  otlier 
like  poison! 


352  ALICE;  OR,  THE   MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Inspicere  tanquam  in  speculum,  in  vitas  omnium 

Jubeo.i 

Tekent. 

Ernest  Maltravers  still  lingered  at  Paris:  he  gave 
up  all  notion  of  proceeding  further.  He  was,  in  fact, 
tired  of  travel.  But  there  was  another  reason  that 
chained  him  to  that  "Navel  of  the  Earth,"  —  there  is 
not  anywhere  a  better  sounding-board  to  London  rumors 
than  the  English  quartier  between  the  Boulevard  des 
Italiens  and  the  Tuileries ;  here,  at  all  events,  he  should 
soonest  learn  the  worst:  and  every  day,  as  he  took  up 
the  English  newspapers,  a  sick  feeling  of  apprehension 
and  fear  came  over  him.  No !  till  the  seal  was  set  upon 
the  bond,  till  the  Eubicon  was  passed,  till  Miss  Cameron 
was  the  wife  of  Lord  Vargrave,  he  could  neither  return 
to  the  home  that  was  so  eloquent  with  the  recollections 
of  Evelyn,  nor,  by  removing  further  from  England,  delay 
the  receipt  of  an  intelligence  which  he  vainly  told  himself 
he  was  prepared  to  meet. 

He  continued  to  seek  such  distractions  from  thought  as 
were  within  his  reach ;  and  as  his  heart  was  too  occupied 
for  pleasures  which  had,  indeed,  long  since  palled,  those 
distractions  were  of  the  grave  and  noble  character  which 
it  is  a  prerogative  of  the  intellect  to  afford  to  the 
passions. 

De  Montaigne  was  neither  a  Doctrinaire  nor  a  Repub- 
lican,—  and  yet,  perhaps,  he  was  a  little  of  both.     He 
1  I  bid  you  look  into  the  lives  of  all  men,  as  it  were  into  a  mirror. 


ALICE;   on,   THE   MYSTEPJES.  353 

was  one  who  thought  that  the  tendency  of  all  European 
States  is  towards  Democracy ;  but  he  by  no  means  looked 
upon  Democracy  as  a  panacea  for  all  legislative  evils. 
He  thought  that  while  a  writer  should  be  in  advance  of 
his  time,  a  statesman  should  content  himself  with  march- 
ing by  its  side ;  tliat  a  nation  could  not  be  ripened,  like 
an  exotic,  by  artificial  means;  that  it  must  be  developed 
only  by  natural  influences.  He  believed  that  forms  of 
government  are  never  universal  in  their  effects.  Thus, 
De  Montaigne  conceived  that  we  were  wrong  in  attaching 
more  importance  to  legislative  than  to  social  reforms. 
He  considered,  for  instance,  that  the  surest  sign  of  our 
progressive  civilization  is  in  our  growing  distaste  of  capi- 
tal pimishments.  He  believed,  not  in  the  ultimate  per- 
fection of  mankind,  but  in  their  progressive^e?/ec^i^i7;V?/. 
He  thought  that  improvement  w- as  indefinite ;  but  he  did 
not  place  its  advance  more  imder  Republican  than  under 
Monarchical  forms.  "  Provided, "  he  was  wont  to  say, 
"  all  our  checks  to  power  are  of  the  right  kind,  it  matters 
little  to  what  hands  the  power  itself  is  confided. " 

"  iEgina  and  Athens, "  said  he,  "  were  republics  — 
commercial  and  maritime  —  placed  under  the  same  sky, 
surrounded  by  the  same  neighbors,  and  rent  by  the  same 
struggles  between  Oligarchy  and  Democracy.  Yet  while 
one  left  the  world  an  immortal  heirloom  of  genius,  where 
are  the  poets,  the  philosophers,  the  statesmen  of  the 
other  ?  Arrian  tells  us  of  republics  in  India,  —  still  sup- 
posed to  exist  by  modern  investigators, —  but  they  are  not 
more  productive  of  liberty  of  thought,  or  ferment  of  in- 
tellect, than  the  principalities.  In  Italy  there  were 
commonwealths  as  liberal  as  the  republic  of  Florence; 
biit  they  did  not  produce  a  INIachiavelli  or  a  Dante. 
"What  daring  thought,  what  gigantic  speculation,  what 
democracy  of  wisdom  and  genius,  have  sprung  up  amongst 

23 


354  ALICE;   OK,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

the  despotisms  of  Germany!  You  cannot  educate  two 
individuals  so  as  to  produce  the  same  results  from  both; 
you  cannot,  by  similar  constitutions  (which  are  the  edu- 
cation of  nations),  produce  the  same  residts  from  different 
communities.  The  proper  object  of  statesmen  should  be 
to  give  every  facility  to  the  people  to  develop  them- 
selves, and  every  facility  to  philosophy  to  dispute  and 
discuss  as  to  the  ultimate  objects  to  be  obtained.  But 
you  cannot,  as  a  practical  legislator,  place  your  country 
under  a  melon-frame :  it  must  grow  of  its  own  accord. " 

I  do  not  say  whether  or  not  De  Montaigne  was  wrong; 
but  Maltravers  saw  at  least  that  he  was  faithful  to  his 
theories;  that  all  his  motives  Avere  sincere, —  all  his  prac- 
tice pure.  He  could  not  but  alloAV,  too,  that  in  his  occu- 
pations and  labors,  De  Montaigne  appeared  to  feel  a 
sublime  enjoyment:  that,  in  linking  all  the  powers  of 
his  mind  to  active  and  useful  objects,  De  Montaigne  was 
infinitely  happier  than  the  philosophy  of  indifference,  the 
scorn  of  ambition,  had  made  Maltravers.  The  influence 
exercised  by  the  large-souled  and  practical  Frenchman 
over  the  fate  and  the  history  of  Maltravers  was  very 
peculiar. 

De  Montaigne  had  not,  apparently  and  directly,  oper- 
ated upon  his  friend's  outward  destinies,  but  he  had  done 
so  indirectly,  by  operating  on  his  mind.  Perhaps  it  was 
he  who  had  consolidated  the  first  wavering  and  uncertain 
impulses  of  Maltravers  towards  literary  exertion:  it  was 
he  who  had  consoled  him  for  the  mortifications  at  the 
early  part  of  his  career;  and  now,  perhaps,  he  might 
serve,  in  the  full  vigor  of  his  intellect,  permanently  to 
reconcile  the  Englishman  to  the  claims  of  life. 

There  were,  indeed,  certain  conversations  which  Mal- 
travers held  with  De  Montaigne,  the  germ  and  pith  of 
which  it  is  necessary   that   I   should    place    before  the 


ALICE;   OR,   THE  MYSTERIES.  355 

reader,  —  for  I  write  the  inner  as  well  as  the  outer  his- 
tory of  a  man;  and  the  great  incidents  of  life  are  not 
brought  about  only  by  the  dramatic  agencies  of  others, 
but  also  by  our  own  reasonings  and  habits  of  thought. 
What  I  am  now  about  to  set  down  may  be  wearisome, 
but  it  is  not  episodical ;  and  I  promise  that  it  shall  be  the 
last  didactic  conversation  in  the  work. 

One  day,  Maltravers  was  relating  to  De  Montaigne  all 
that  he  had  been  planning  at  Burleigh  for  the  improve- 
ment of  his  peasantry,  and  all  his  theories  respecting 
Labor-Schools  and  Poor-Kates,  when  De  Montaigne 
abruptly  turned  round,   and  said, — 

"  You  have,  then,  really  found  that  in  your  own  little 
village,  your  exertions  —  exertions  not  very  arduous,  not 
demanding  a  tenth  part  of  your  time  —  have  done 
practical  good  ?  " 

"  Certainly  I  think  so, "  replied  Maltravers,  in  some 
surprise. 

"  And  yet  it  was  but  yesterday  that  you  declared 
'that  all  the  labors  of  philosophy  and  legislation  were 
labors  vain ;  their  benefits  equivocal  and  uncertain ;  that 
as  the  sea,  where  it  loses  in  one  place,  gains  in  another, 
so  civilization  only  partially  profits  us,  stealing  away  one 
virtue  while  it  yields  another,  and  leaving  the  large  pro- 
portions of  good  and  evil  eternally  the  same. '  " 

"  True ;  but  I  never  said  that  man  might  not  relieve 
individuals  by  individual  exertion,  though  he  cannot  by 
abstract  theories,  nay,  even  by  practical  action  in  the 
wide  circle,  benefit  the  mass." 

"  Do  you  not  employ  on  behalf  of  individuals  the  same 
moral  agencies  that  wise  legislation  or  sound  philosophy 
would  adopt  towards  the  multitude  1  For  example,  you 
find  that  the  children  of  your  village  are  happier,  more 
orderly,  more  obedient,  promise  to  be  wiser  and  better 


356  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

men  in  their  own  station  of  life,  from  the  new,  and  I 
grant,  excellent,  system  of  school  discipline  and  teaching 
that  you  have  established.  What  you  have  done  in  one 
village,  why  should  not  legislation  do  throughout  a 
kingdom  1  Again,  you  find  that,  by  simply  holding  out 
hope  and  emulation  to  industry,  —  by  making  stern  dis- 
tinctions between  the  energetic  and  the  idle,  the  inde- 
pendent exertion  and  the  pauper  mendicancy,  — you 
have  found  a  lever  by  wlaich  you  have  literally  moved 
and  shifted  the  little  world  around  you.  But  what  is  the 
diflFerence  here  between  the  rules  of  a  village  lord  and  the 
laws  of  a  wise  legislature  ?  The  moral  feelings  you  have 
appealed  to  exist  universally,  —  the  moral  remedies  you 
have  practised  are  as  open  to  legislation  as  to  the  individ- 
ual proprietor." 

"  Yes ;  but  when  you  apply  to  a  nation  the  same  prin- 
ciples which  regenerate  a  village,  new  counterbalancing 
principles  arise.  If  I  give  education  to  my  peasants,  I 
send  them  into  the  world  with  advantages  superior  to 
their  fellows, —  advantages  which,  not  being  common  to 
their  class,  enable  them  to  outstrip  their  fellows.  But 
if  this  education  were  universal  to  the  whole  tribe,  no 
man  would  have  an  advantage  superior  to  the  others ;  the 
knowledge  they  would  have  acquired  being  shared  by  all, 
would  leave  all  as  they  now  are,  liewers  of  wood  and 
drawers  of  water:  the  principle  of  individual  hope,  which 
springs  from  knowledge,  would  soon  be  baffled  by  the 
vast  com))etition  that  unioersal  knowledge  Avould  pro- 
duce. Thus  by  the  universal  improvement  would  be 
engendered  a  universal  discontent. 

"  Take  a  broader  view  of  the  subject.  Advantages 
given  to  the  few  around  me  —  superior  wages,  lighter 
toils,  a  greater  sense  of  the  dignity  of  man  —  are  not 
productive  of  any  change  in  society.     Give  these  advan- 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTKKIES.  357 

tages  to  the  ivhole  mass  of  the  laboring  classes,  and 
what  in  the  small  orbit  is  the  desire  of  the  individual  to 
rise,  becomes  in  the  large  circumference  the  desire  of  the 
class  to  rise ;  hence  social  restlessness,  social  change,  revo- 
lution, and  its  hazards.  For  revolutions  are  produced 
but  by  the  aspirations  of  one  order  and  the  resistance  of 
the  other.  Consequently,  legislative  improvement  differs 
widely  from  individual  amelioration;  the  same  principle, 
the  same  agency,  that  purifies  the  small  bodj',  becomes 
destructive  when  applied  to  the  large  one.  Appl}'  the 
flame  to  the  log  on  the  hearth,  or  apply  it  to  the  forest, 
is  there  no  distinction  in  the  result  1  —  the  breeze  that 
freshens  the  fountain  passes  to  the  ocean,  current  impels 
current,  wave  urges  wave,  and  the  breeze  becomes  the. 
storm." 

"  Were  there  truth  in  this  train  of  argument, "  replied, 
De  Montaigne,  "  had  we  ever  abstained  from  commu- 
nicating to  the  multitude  the  enjoyments  and  advantages 
of  the  few;  had  we  shrunk  from  the  good,  because  the 
good  is  a  parent  of  the  change  and  its  partial  ills,  —  wliat 
now  would  be  society  1  Is  there  no  difference  in  collec- 
tive happiness  and  virtue  between  the  painted  Picts  and 
the  Druid  worship,  and  the  glorious  harmony,  light,  and 
order  of  the  great  English  nation  1  " 

"  The  question  is  popular, "  said  Maltravers,  with  a 
smile,  "  and  were  you  my  opponent  in  an  election,  would 
be  cheered  on  any  hustings  in  the  kingdom.  But  I  have 
lived  among  savage  tribes,  —  savage,  perhaps,  as  the 
race  that  resisted  Caesar, —  and  their  liappiness  seems  to 
me,  not  perhaps  the  same  as  that  of  the  few  whose  sources 
of  enjoyment  are  numerous,  refined,  and  save  by  their 
own  passions,  unalloyed,  but  equal  to  that  of  the  mass  of 
men  in  states  the  most  civilized  and  advanced.  The  ar- 
tisans, crowded  together  m  the  fetid  air  of  factories,  with 


358  ALICE  ;   OK,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

physical  ills  gnawing  at  the  core  of  the  constitution,  from 
the  cradle  to  the  grave;  drudging  on  from  dawn  to  sun- 
set, and  flying  for  recreation  to  the  dread  excitement  of 
the  dram-shop,  or  the  wild  and  vain  hopes  of  political 
fanaticism,  —  are  not  in  my  eyes  happier  than  the  wild 
Indians  with  hardy  frames  and  calm  tempers,  seasoned  to 
the  privations  for  which  you  pity  them,  and  uncursed 
witli  desires  of  that  better  state  never  to  be  theirs.  The 
Arab  in  his  desert  has  seen  all  the  luxuries  of  the  pasha 
in  his  harem ;  but  he  envies  them  not.  He  is  contented 
with  his  barb,  his  tent,  his  desolate  sands,  and  his  spring 
of  refreshing  water. 

"  Are  we  not  daily  told  —  do  not  our  priests  preach  it 
from  their  pulpits  —  that  the  cottage  shelters  happiness 
equal  to  that  within  the  palace  1  Yet  what  tlie  distinction 
between  the  peasant  and  the  prince,  differing  from  that 
between  the  peasant  and  the  savage  1  There  are  more 
enjoyments  and  more  privations  in  the  one  than  in  the 
other;  but  if,  in  the  latter  case,  the  enjoyments,  though 
fewer,  be  more  keenly  felt,  if  the  privations,  though  ap- 
parently sharper,  fall  upon  duller  sensibilities  and  hardier 
frames,  —  your  gauge  of  proportion  loses  all  its  value. 
Nay,  in  civilization  there  is  for  the  multitude  an  evil  that 
exists  not  in  the  savage  state.  The  poor  man  sees  daily 
and  hourly  all  the  vast  disparities  produced  by  civilized 
society ;  and,  reversing  the  divine  parable,  it  is  Lazarus 
who  from  afar,  and  from  the  despondent  pit,  looks  upon 
Dives  in  the  lap  of  Paradise:  therefore,  his  privations, 
his  sufferings,  are  made  more  keen  by  comparison  with 
the  luxuries  of  others.  Not  so  in  the  desert  and  the 
forest.  There  but  small  distinctions,  and  those  softened 
by  immemorial  and  hereditary  usage, —  that  has  in  it  the 
sanctity  of  religion,  —  separate  the  savage  from  his  chief ! 
The   fact  is,   that  in  civilization  we  behold  a  splendid 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  359 

aggregate, —  literature  and  science,  wealth  and  luxury 
commerce  and  glory ;  but  we  see  not  the  million  victims 
crushed  beneath  the  wheels  of  the  machine,  the  health 
sacrificed,  the  board  breadless,  the  jails  filled,  the  hos- 
pitals reeking,  the  human  life  poisoned  in  every  spring, 
and  poured  forth  like  water !  Neither  do  we  remember 
all  the  steps,  marked  by  desolation,  crime,  and  bloodshed, 
by  which  this  barren  summit  has  been  reached.  Take 
the  history  of  any  civilized  state :  England,  France, 
Spain  before  she  rotted  back  into  second  childhood,  the 
Italian  Republics,  the  Greek  Commonwealths,  the  Em- 
press of  the  Seven  Hills,  —  what  struggles,  what  perse- 
cutions, what  crimes,  what  massacres!  Where,  in  the 
page  of  history,  shall  we  look  back  and  say,  *  Here  im- 
provement has  diminished  the  sum  of  evil  1 '  Extend, 
too,  your  scope  beyond  the  state  itself:  each  state  has 
won  its  acquisitions  by  the  woes  of  others.  Spain  springs 
above  the  Old  World  on  the  blood-stained  ruins  of  the 
NeAv ;  and  the  groans  and  the  gold  of  Mexico  produce  the 
splendors  of  the  Fifth  Charles. 

"  Behold  England,  —  the  wise,  the  liberal,  the  free 
England :  through  what  struggles  she  has  passed ;  and 
is  she  yet  contented  ?  The  sullen  oligarchy  of  the  Nor- 
mans ;  our  own  criminal  invasions  of  Scotland  and  France ; 
the  plundered  people ;  the  butchered  kings ;  the  persecu- 
tions of  the  Lollards ;  the  wars  of  Lancaster  and  York ; 
the  new  dynasty  of  the  Tudors,  that  at  once  put  back 
liberty,  and  put  forward  civilization;  the  Reformation, 
cradled  in  the  lap  of  a  hideous  despot,  and  nursed  by 
violence  and  rapine,  the  stakes  and  fires  of  Mary,  and 
the  craftier  cruelties  of  Elizabeth;  England,  strength- 
ened by  the  desolation  of  Ireland;  the  Civil  Wars;  the 
reign  of  hypocrisy,  followed  by  the  reign  of  naked  vice ; 
the  nation  that  beheaded  the  graceful  Charles  gaping  idly 


3(30  ALICE;   OK,    THE    MYSTERIES. 

on  the  scaffold  of  the  lofty  Sidney ;  the  vain  Revolution 
of  1G88,  which,  if  a  jubilee  in  England,  was  a  massacre 
in  Ireland  ]  the  bootless  glories  of  Marlborough ;  the  or- 
ganized corruption  of  Walpole ;  the  frantic  war  with  our  own 
American  sons ;  the  exhausting  struggles  with  Napoleon ! 
"  Well,  we  close  the  page,  —  we  say,  Lo !  a  thousand 
years  of  incessant  struggles  and  afflictions!  Millions 
have  perished,  but  art  has  survived;  our  boors  wear 
stockings,  our  women  drink  tea,  our  poets  read  Shake- 
speare, and  our  astronomers  improve  on  Newton  !  Are 
we  now  contented  ?  No  !  more  restless  than  ever.  New 
classes  are  called  into  power;  new  forms  of  government 
insisted  on.  Still  the  same  catchwords,  —  liberty  here, 
religion  there ;  order  with  one  faction,  amelioration  v/ith 
the  other.  Where  is  the  goal,  and  what  have  we  gained  ? 
Books  are  written,  silks  are  woven,  palaces  are  built,  — ■ 
mighty  acquisitions  for  the  few,  but  the  peasant  is  a 
peasant  still.  The  crowd  are  yet  at  the  bottom  of  the 
wheel;  better  off,  you  say.  No,  for  tliey  are  not  more 
contented.  The  artisan  is  as  anxious  for  change  as  ever 
the  serf  was ;  and  the  steam-engine  has  its  victims  as  well 
as  the  sword. 

"  Talk  of  legislation ;  all  isolated  laws  pave  the  way  to 
wholesale  changes  in  the  form  of  government.  Emanci- 
pate Catholics,  and  you  open  the  door  to  the  democratic 
principle  that  opinion  should  be  free;  if  free  with  the 
sectarian,  it  should  be  free  with  the  elector.  The  ballot 
is  a  corollary  from  the  Catholic  Belief  Bill.  Grant  the 
ballot,  and  the  new  corollary  of  enlarged  suffrage.  Suf- 
frage enlarged  is  divided  but  by  a  yielding  surface  (a 
circle  widening  in  the  waters)  from  universal  suffrage. 
Universal  suffrage  is  Democracy.  Is  Democracy  better 
than  the  aristocratic  commonwealth?  Look  at  the 
Greeks,  who  knew  both  forms,  are  they  agreed  which  is 


ALICE;  OR,  THE   MYSTEKIES.  361 

the  best  ?  Plato,  Thucydides,  Xenophon,  Aristophanes, 
—  the  Dreamer,  the  Historian,  the  Philosopliic  Man  of 
Action,  the  penetrating  Wit,  —  have  no  ideals  in  Democ- 
racy !  Algernon  Sidney,  the  martyr  of  liberty,  allows 
no  government  to  the  multitude.  Brutus  died  for  a  re- 
public, but  a  republic  of  Patricians.  Wliat  form  of 
government  is,  then,  the  best?  All  dispute;  the  wisest 
cannot  agree.  The  many  still  say,  '  a  republic ; '  yet, 
as  you  yourself  will  allow,  Prussia,  the  despotism,  does 
all  that  republics  do.  Yes,  but  a  good  despot  is  a  lucky 
accident;  true,  but  a  just  and  benevolent  republic  is  as 
yet  a  monster  equally  short^b'ved.  When  the  people 
have  no  other  tyrant,  their  own  public  opinion  becomes 
one.  No  secret  espionage  is  more  intolerable  to  a  free 
spirit  than  the  broad  glare  of  the  American  eye. 

"  A  rural  republic  is  but  a  patriarchal  trite :  no  emula 
tion,  no  glory,  —  peace  and  stagnation.  What  English- 
man, what  Frenchman,  would  wish  to  be  a  Swiss?  A 
commercial  republic  is  but  an  admirable  machine  for 
making  money.  Is  man  created  for  nothing  nobler  than 
freighting  ships,  and  speculating  on  silk  and  sugar  ?  In 
fact,  there  is  no  certain  goal  in  legislation;  we  go  on 
colonizing  Utopia,  and  fighting  phantoms  in  the  clouds. 
Let  us  content  ourselves  with  injuring  no  man,  and  doing 
good  only  in  our  own  little  sphere.  Let  us  leave  states 
and  senates  to  fill  the  sieve  of  the  Danaides,  and  roll  up 
the  stone  of  Sisyphus." 

"  My  dear  friend, "  said  De  Montaigne,  "  you  have 
certainly  made  the  most  of  an  argument  which,  if 
granted,  would  consign  government  to  fools  and  knaves, 
and  pkmge  the  communities  of  mankind  into  the  Slough 
of  Despond.  But  a  very  commonplace  view  of  the  ques- 
tion might  suffice  to  shake  your  system.  Is  life,  mere 
animal  life,  on  the  whole,  a  curse  or  a  blessing  1  " 


362  ALICE;  on,  the  mysteries. 

"  The  generality  of  men  in  all  countries, "  answered 
Maltravers,  "  enjoy  existence,  and  apprehend  death ;  were 
it  otherwise,  the  world  had  been  made  by  a  fiend,  and 
not  a  God." 

"  Well,  then,  observe  how  the  progress  of  society 
cheats  the  grave!  In  great  cities,  where  the  effect  of 
civilization  must  be  the  most  visible,  the  diminution 
of  mortality  in  a  corresponding  ratio  with  the  increase 
of  civilization  is  most  remarkable.  In  Berlin,  from  the 
year  1747  to  1755,  the  annual  mortality  was  as  one  to 
twenty-eight;  but  from  1816  to  1822,  it  was  as  one 
to  thirty -four!  You  ask  what  England  has  gained  by 
her  progress  in  the  arts?  I  will  answer  you  by  her 
bills  of  mortality.  In  London,  Birmingham,  and  Liver- 
pool, deaths  have  decreased  in  less  than  a  century  from 
one  to  twenty,  to  one  to  forty  (precisely  one  half!). 
Again,  whenever  a  community  —  nay,  a  single  city  —  de- 
creases in  civilization,  and  in  its  concomitants,  activity 
and  commerce,  its  mortality  instantly  increases.  But 
if  civilization  be  favorable  to  the  prolongation  of  life, 
must  it  not  be  favorable  to  all  that  blesses  life,  —  to 
bodily  health,  to  mental  cheerfulness,  to  the  capacities 
for  enjoyment  ?  And  how  much  more  grand,  how  much 
more  sublime,  Ijecomes  the  prospect  of  gain,  if  we  re- 
flect that,  to  each  life  thus  called  forth,  there  is  a  soul, 
a  destiny  beyond  the  grave,  multiplied  immortalities! 
Wliat  an  apology  for  the  continued  progress  of  states! 
But  you  say  that,  however  we  advance,  we  continue 
impatient  and  dissatisfied.  Can  you  really  suppose  that 
because  man  in  every  state  is  discontented  with  his 
lot,  there  is  no  difference  in  the  degree  and  quality  of 
his  discontent,  —  no  distinction  between  pining  for  bread 
and  longing  for  the  moon  ?  Desire  is  implanted  within 
us  as  the  very  principle  of  existence ;  the  physical  desire 


ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  363 

fills  the  world,  and  the  moral  desire  improves  it.  Where 
ihere  is  desire,  there  must  he  discontent;  if  we  are  sat- 
isfied with  all  things,  desire  is  extinct.  But  a  certain 
degree  of  discontent  is  not  incompatible  with  happiness, 
—  nay,  it  has  happiness  of  its  own ;  what  happiness  like 
hope,  —  what  is  hope  but  desire  ?  The  European  serf, 
whose  seigneur  could  command  his  life  or  insist  as  a 
right  on  the  chastity  of  his  daughter,  desires  to  better  his 
condition.  God  has  compassion  on  his  state;  Providence 
calls  into  action  the  ambition  of  leaders,  the  contests  of 
faction,  the  movement  of  men's  aims  and  passions:  a 
change  passes  through  society  and  legislation,  and  the 
serf  becomes  free!  He  desires  still,  but  what?  No 
longer  personal  security,  no  longer  the  privileges  of  life 
and  health;  but  higher  wages,  greater  comfort,  easier 
justice  for  diminished  wrongs.  Is  there  no  difference  in 
the  quality  of  that  desire  1  Was  one  a  greater  torment 
than  the  other  is  1  Kise  a  scale  higher :  a  new  class  is 
created,  —  the  Middle  Class,  the  express  creature  of 
Civilization.  Behold  the  burgher  and  the  citizen,  still 
struggling,  still  contending,  still  desiring,  and  therefore 
still  discontented.  But  the  discontent  does  not  prey 
upon  the  springs  of  life :  it  is  the  discontent  of  hope,  not 
despair;  it  calls  forth  faculties,  energies,  and  passions, 
in  which  there  is  more  joy  than  sorrow.  It  is  this  de- 
sire which  makes  the  citizen  in  private  life  an  anxious 
father,  a  careful  master,  an  active,  and  therefore  not  an 
unhappy  man.  You  allow  that  individuals  can  effect 
individual  good ;  this  very  restlessness,  this  very  discon- 
tent with  the  exact  place  that  he  occupies,  makes  the 
citizen  a  benefactor  in  his  narrow  circle.  Commerce, 
better  than  charity,  feeds  the  hungry  and  clothes  the 
naked.  Ambition,  better  than  brute  aifection,  gives  edu- 
cation to  our  children,  and  teaches  them  the  love  of  in- 


364  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

dustry,  the  pride  of  independence,  the  respect  for  others 
and  themselves!  " 

"  In  other  words,  a  deference  to  such  quahties  as  can 
best  fit  them  to  get  on  in  tlie  world,  and  make  the  most 


money 


"  Take  that  view  if  you  will ;  but  the  wiser,  the  more 
civilized  the  state,  the  worse  chances  for  the  rogue  to  get 
on!  There  may  be  some  art,  some  hypocrisy,  some 
avarice,  —  nay,  some  hardness  of  heart,  —  in  paternal  ex- 
ample and  professional  tuition.  But  what  are  such  sober 
infirmities  to  the  vices  that  arise  from  defiance  and  de- 
spair? Your  savage  has  his  virtues,  but  they  are  mostly 
physical,  —  fortitude,  abstinence,  patience :  mental  and 
moral  virtues  must  be  numerous  or  few,  in  proportion  to 
the  range  of  ideas  and  the  exigencies  of  social  life.  With 
the  savage,  therefore ,  they  must  be  fewer  than  with  civil- 
ized men;  and  they  are  consequently  limited  to  those 
simple  and  rude  elements  which  the  safety  of  his  state 
renders  necessary  to  him.  He  is  usually  hospitable, 
sometimes  honest.  But  vices  are  necessary  to  his  exis- 
tence, as  well  as  virtues :  he  is  at  war  with  a  tribe  that 
may  destroy  his  own;  and  treachery  without  scruple, 
cruelty  without  remorse,  are  essential  to  him ;  he  feels 
their  necessity,  and  calls  them  virtues  !  Even  the  half- 
civilized  man,  the  Arab  whom  you  praise,  imagines  he 
has  a  necessity  for  your  money;  and  his  robberies  be- 
come virtues  to  him.  But  in  civilized  states,  vices  are 
at  least  not  necessary  to  the  existence  of  the  majority; 
they  are  not,  therefore,  worshipped  as  virtues.  Society 
unites  against  them.  Treachery,  robbery,  massacre,  are 
not  essential  to  the  strength  or  safety  of  the  community ; 
they  exist,  it  is  true,  but  they  are  not  cultivated,  but 
punished.  The  thief  in  St.  Giles's  has  the  virtues  of 
your  savage :  he  is  true  to  his  companions ;  he  is  brave  in 


ALICE;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  3G5 

danger ;  he  is  patient  in  privation ;  lie  practises  the  virtues 
necessary  to  the  bonds  of  liis  calling  and  the  tacit  law^s  of 
his  vocation.  He  uaight  have  made  an  admirable  savage ; 
but  surely  the  mass  of  civilized  men  are  better  than  the 
thief?" 

Maltravers  was  struck,  and  paused  a  little  before  he 
replied ;  and  then  he  shifted  his  ground.  "  But  at  least 
all  our  laws,  all  our  efforts,  must  leave  the  multitude  in 
every  state  condemned  to  a  labor  that  deadens  intellect, 
and  a  poverty  that  embitters  life. " 

"  Supposing  this  were  true,  still  there  are  multitudes 
besides  the  multitude.  In  each  state  civilization  pro- 
duces a  middle  class,  more  numerous  to-day  than  the 
whole  peasantry  of  a  thousand  years  ago.  Would  move- 
ment and  progress  be  without  their  divine  uses,  even  if 
they  limited  their  effect  to  the  production  of  such  a  class  ? 
Look  also  to  the  effect  of  art  and  refinement  and  just 
laws  in  the  wealthier  and  higher  classes.  See  how  their 
very  habits  of  life  tend  to  increase  the  sum  of  enjoy 
ment,  —  see  the  mighty  activity  that  their  very  luxury, 
the  very  frivolity  of  their  pursuits,  create !  Without  an 
aristocracy,  would  there  have  been  a  middle  class  ?  With- 
out a  middle  class,  would  there  ever  have  been  an  in- 
terposition between  lord  and  slave?  Before  commerce 
produces  a  middle  class,  religion  creates  one.  The  priest- 
hood, whatever  its  errors,  was  the  curb  to  power.  But 
to  return  to  the  multitude,  —  you  say  that  in  all  times 
they  are  left  the  same.  Is  it  so  ?  I  come  to  statistics 
again:  I  find  that  not  only  civilization,  but  liberty,  has 
a  prodigious  effect  upon  human  life.  It  is,  as  it  were, 
by  the  instinct  of  self-preservation  that  liberty  is  so  pas- 
sionately desired  by  the  multitude.  A  negro  slave,  for 
instance,  dies  annually  as  one  to  five  or  six,  but  a  free 
African  in  the  English  service  only  as  one  to  thirty-fivct 


366  ALICE;   OR,    THE   MYSTERIES. 

Freedom,  is  not,  therefore,  a  mere  abstract  dream,  a 
beautiful  name,  a  Platonic  aspiration :  it  is  interwoven 
with  the  most  practical  of  all  blessings,  life  itself!  And 
can  you  say  fairly  that,  by  laws,  labor  cannot  be  light- 
ened and  poverty  diminished?  We  have  granted  al- 
ready that  since  there  are  degrees  in  discontent,  there 
is  a  diiference  between  the  peasant  and  the  serf.  How 
know  you  what  the  peasant  a  thousand  years  hence  may 
be  1  Discontented,  you  will  say,  —  still  discontented. 
Yes ;  but  if  he  had  not  been  discontented,  he  would  have 
been  a  serf  still!  Far  from  quelling  this  desire  to  better 
himself,  we  ought  to  hail  it  as  the  source  of  his  perpetual 
progress.  That  desire  to  him  is  often  like  imagination 
to  the  poet :  it  transports  him  into  the  future,  — 

'Crura  sonant  ferro,  sed  canit  inter  opus  ; ' 

it  is,  indeed,  the  gradual  transformation  from  the  de- 
sire of  despair  to  the  desire  of  hope,  that  makes  the 
diiference  between  man  and  man, —  between  misery  and 
bliss." 

"  And  then  comes  tlie  crisis.  Hope  ripens  into 
deeds;  the  stormy  revolution,  perhaps  the  armed 
despotism;  the  relapse  into  the  second  infancy  of 
states !  " 

"  Can  we,  with  new  agencies  at  our  command,  new 
morality,  new  wisdom,  predicate  of  the  future  by  the 
past  ?  In  ancient  states  the  mass  were  slaves ;  civilization 
and  freedom  rested  with  oligarchies:  in  Athens  20,000 
citizens,  400,000  slaves!  How  easy  decline,  degeneracy, 
overthrow,  in  such  states, —  a  handful  of  soldiers  and  phi- 
losophers without  a  people!  Now  we  have  no  longer 
barriers  to  the  circulation  of  the  blood  of  states.  The 
absence  of  slavery,  the  existence  of  the  press,  the  health- 
ful proportions  of  kingdoms,  neither  too  confined  nor  too 


ALICE;   Oi:,   THE   MYSTERIES.  367 

vast,  have  created  new  hopes,  which  history  cannot  de- 
stroy. As  a  proof,  look  to  all  late  revolutions :  in  Eng- 
land, the  Civil  Wars,  the  Reformation;  in  France,  her 
awful  Saturnalia,  her  military  despotism!  Has  either 
nation  fallen  back  1  The  deluge  passes,  and  behold,  the 
face  of  things  more  glorious  than  before !  Compare  the 
French  of  to-day  with  the  French  of  the  old  regime. 
You  are  silent;  well,  and  if  in  all  states  there  is  ever 
some  danger  of  evil  in  their  activity,  is  that  a  reason  why 
you  are  to  lie  down  inactive,  —  why  you  are  to  leave 
the  crew  to  battle  for  the  helm?  How  much  may  indi- 
viduals, by  the  diffusion  of  their  own  thoughts,  in  letters 
or  in  action,  regulate  the  order  of  vast  events,  —  now  pre- 
vent, now  soften,  now  animate,  now  guide!  And  is  a 
man,  to  whom  Providence  and  Fortune  have  imparted 
such  prerogatives,  to  stand  aloof,  because  he  can  neither 
foresee  the  future  nor  create  perfection  ?  And  you  talk 
of  no  certain  and  definite  goal !  How  know  we  that  there 
is  a  certain  and  definite  goal,  even  in  heaven?  How 
know  we  that  excellence  may  not  be  illimitable  1  Enough 
that  we  improve,  —  that  we  proceed ;  seeing  in  the  great 
design  of  earth  that  benevolence  is  an  attribute  of  the 
Designer,  let  us  leave  the  rest  to  posterity  and  to  God. " 

"  You  have  disturbed  many  of  my  theories, "  said  Mal- 
travers,  candidly,  "  and  I  will  reflect  on  ouj  conversation ; 
but,  after  all,  is  every  man  to  aspire  to  influence  others, 
to  throw  his  opinions  into  the  great  scales  in  which  hu- 
man destinies  are  weighed  1  Private  life  is  not  crimmal. 
It  is  no  virtue  to  write  a  book,  or  to  make  a  speech. 
Perhaps  I  should  be  as  well  engaged  in  returning  to  my 
country  village,  looking  at  my  schools,  and  wrangKng 
Avith  the  parish  overseers  —  " 

"Ah!"  interrupted  the  Frenchman,  laughing;  "  if  I 
have   driven   you   to   this   point,   I  will  go  no  further. 


368  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

Every  state  of  life  has  its  duties;  every  man  must  be 
himself  the  judge  of  what  he  is  most  fit  for.  It  is  quite 
enough  that  he  desires  to  be  active,  and  labors  to  be  use- 
ful ;  that  he  acknowledges  the  precept,  '  never  to  be 
weary  in  well-doing. '  The  divine  appetite  once  fostered, 
let  it  select  its  own  food.  But  the  man  who,  after  fair 
trial  of  his  capacities,  and  with  all  opportunity  for  their 
full  development  before  him,  is  convinced  that  he  has 
faculties  which  private  life  cannot  wholly  absorb,  must 
not  repine  that  human  nature  is  not  perfect,  when  he 
refuses  even  to  exercise  the  gifts  he  himself  possesses. " 

Now,  these  arguments  have  been  very  tedious :  in  some 
places  they  have  been  old  and  trite ;  in  others  they  may 
appear  too  much  to  appertain  to  the  abstract  theory  of 
first  principles.  Yet  from  such  arguments  pro  and  con, 
unless  I  greatly  mistake,  are  to  be  derived  corollaries 
equally  practical  and  sublime, —  the  virtue  of  action,  the 
obligations  of  genius,  and  the  philosophy  that  teaches 
us  to  confide  in  the  destinies,  and  labor  in  the  service,  of 
mankind. 


ALICE;  OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  3G9 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Ill  tell  you  presently  her  very  picture  : 
Stay  —  yes,  it  is  so  —  Leila. 

The  Captain,  Act  v.  Sc.  1. 

Maltravers  had  not  shrunk  into  a  system  of  false 
philosophy  from  wayward,  and  sickly  dreams,  from  reso- 
lute self-delusion;  on  the  contrary,  his  errors  rested  on 
his  convictions;  the  convictions  disturbed,  the  errors 
were  rudely  shaken. 

But  when  his  mind  began  restlessly  to  turn  once 
more  towards  the  duties  of  active  life ;  when  he  recalled 
all  the  former  drudgeries  and  toils  of  political  conflict, 
or  the  wearing  fatigues  of  literature,  with  its  small 
enmities,  its  false  friendships,  and  its  meagre  and  capri- 
cious rewards,  —  ah,  then,  indeed,  he  shrank  in  dismay 
from  the  thoughts  of  the  solitude  at  home !  No  lips  to 
console  in  dejection,  no  heart  to  sympathize  in  triumph, 
no  love  within  to  counterbalance  the  hate  without,  — 
and  the  best  of  man,  his  household  affections,  left  to 
wither  away,  or  to  waste  themselves  on  ideal  images  or 
melancholy  remembrance. 

It  may,  indeed,  be  generally  remarked  (contrary  to  a 
common  notion)  that  the  men  who  are  most  happy  at 
home  are  the  most  active  abroad.  The  animal  spirits 
are  necessary  to  healthful  action;  and  dejection  and  the 
sense  of  solitude  will  turn  the  stoutest  into  dreamers. 
The  hermit  is  the  antipodes  of  the  citizen;  and  no  gods 
animate  and  inspire  us  like  the  Lares. 

24 


370  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

One  evening,  after  an  absence  from  Paris  of  nearly 
a  fortnight,  at  De  Montaigne's  villa,  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  St.  Cloud,  Maltravers,  who,  though  he  no 
longer  practised  the  art,  was  not  less  fond  than  hereto- 
fore of  music,  was  seated  in  Madame  de  Ventadour's 
box  at  the  Italian  Opera;  and  Valerie,  who  was  above 
all  the  woman's  jealousy  of  beauty,  was  expatiating 
with  great  warmth  of  eulogium  upon  the  charms  of  a 

young  English  lady  whom  she  had  met  at  Lady  G 's 

the  preceding  evening :  — 

"  She  is  just  my  beau  ideal  of  the  true  English 
beauty,"  said  Valerie:  "it  is  not  only  the  exquisite 
fairness  of  the  complexion,  nor  the  eyes  so  purely  blue, 
which  the  dark  lashes  relieve  from  the  coldness  common 
to  the  light  eyes  of  the  Scotch  and  Germans,  that  are  so 
beautifully  national,  but  the  simplicity  of  manner,  the 
unconsciousness  of  admiration,  the  mingled  modesty  and 
sense  of  the  expression.  Ko,  I  have  seen  women  more 
beautiful,  but  I  never  saw  one  more  lovely.  You  are 
silent;  I  expected  some  burst  of  patriotism  in  return  for 
my  compliment  to  your  countrywoman." 

"  But  I  am  so  absorbed  in  that  wonderful  Pasta  —  " 

"You  are  no  such  thing;  your  thoughts  are  far  away. 
But  can  you  tell  me  anything  about  my  fair  stranger 
and  her  friends?  In  the  first  place,  there  is  a  Lord 
Doltimore,  whom  I  knew  before, — you  need  say  noth- 
ing about  him;  in  the  next,  there  is  his  new-married 
bride,  handsome,  dark  —  but  you  are  not  well!  " 

"  It  was  the  draught  from  the  door:  go  on,  I  beseech 
you  —  the  young  lady,  the  friend  —  her  name?  " 

"  Her  name  I  do  not  remember ;  but  she  was  engaged 
to  be  married  to  one  of  your  statesmen.  Lord  Vargrave. 
The  marriage  is  broken  off;  I  know  not  if  that  be  the 
cause  of  a  certain  melancholy  in  her  countenance,  —  a 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  371 

melancholy  I  am  sure  not  natural  to  its  Hebe-like  ex- 
pression. But  who  have  just  entered  the  opposite  box? 
Ah,  Mr.  Maltravers,  do  look,  there  is  the  beautiful 
English  girl !  " 

And  Maltravers  raised  his  eyes,  and  once  more  beheld 
the  countenance  of  Evelyn  Cameron. 


BOOK  VII. 


A6kt](tis  ayvais  \6yo3V  ?)\6e. 

Soph.  :  (Edip.  Tyran.  681. 

Words  of  dark  import  gave  suspicion  birth.  —  Potter. 


BOOK  VII. 


CHAPTER   I, 

Luce.     Is  the  wind  there  ' 
That  makes  for  me. 
Isab.     Come,  —  I  forget  a  business. 

Wit  without  Money. 

Lord  Vargrave's  travelling-carriage  was  at  his  door, 
and   he   himself   was   putting   on   his  greatcoat  in  his 
library,  when  Lord  Saxingham  entered. 
"  What !  you  are  going  into  the  country  1  " 
"  Yes;  I  wrote  you  word,  — to  see  Lisle  Court." 
"  Ay ,   true ;  I  had   forgot.      Somehow  or  other,  my 
memory  is  not  so  good   as   it  was.     But  let  me  see; 

Lisle   Court   is   in shire.        Why,    you   will   pass 

within  ten  miles  of  C ." 

"C !  shall   I?      I   am   not   much   versed   in    the 

geography  of  England,  —  never  learned  it  at  school. 
As  for  Poland,  Kamschatka,  Mexico,  Madagascar,  or 
any  other  place  as  to  which  knowledge  would  be  useful, 
I  have  every  inch  of  the  way  at  my  finger's  end.     But 

apropos  of  C ,  it  is  the  town  in  which  my  late  uncle 

made  his  fortune." 

"  Ah,  so  it  is.     I  recollect  you  were  to  have  stood  for 

C ,  but  gave  it  up  to  Staunch;  very  handsome  in 

you.     Have  you  any  interest  there  still  1  " 

"  I  think  my  ward  has  some  tenants,  a  street  or  two, 
—  one  called  Richard  Street,  and  the  other  Templeton 


376  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

Place.  I  had  intended  some  weeks  ago  to  have  gone 
down  there,  and  seen  what  interest  was  still  left  to  our 

family;   but  Staunch  himself  told  me  that  C was 

a  sure  card." 

"  So  he  thought;  but  he  has  been  with  me  this  morn- 
ing in  great  alarm :  he  now  thinks  he  shall  be  thrown 
out.  A  Mr.  Winsley,  who  has  a  great  deal  of  interest 
there,  and  was  a  supporter  of  his,  hangs  back  on  account 

of  the question.     This  is  unlucky,  as  Staunch  is 

quite  with  us;  and  if  he  were  to  rat  now,  it  would  be 
most  unfortunate." 

"Winsley!  Winsley!  —  my  poor  uncle's  right-hand 
man.  A  great  brewer,  —  always  chairman  of  the  Tem- 
pleton  Committee.  1  know  the  name,  though  I  never 
saw  the  man." 

"  If  you  could  take  C in  your  way  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure.  Staunch  must  not  be  lost.  We  can- 
not throw  away  a  single  vote,  much  more  one  of  such 
weight, — eighteen   stone  at  the    least!      I'll    stop    at 

C on  pretence  of  seeing  after  my  ward's  houses, 

and  have  a  quiet  conference  with  Mr.  Winsley.  Hem! 
Peers  must  not  interfere  in  elections,  —  eh?  Well, 
good-by;  take  care  of  yourself.  I  shall  be  back  in  a 
week,  I  hope,  —  perhaps  less." 

In  a  minute  more  Lord  Vargrave  and  Mr.  George 
Frederick  Augustus  Howard  —  a  slim  young  gentleman 
of  high  birth  and  connections,  but  who,  having,  as  a 
portionless  cadet,  his  own  way  to  make  in  the  world, 
condescended  to  be  his  lordship's  private  secretary  — 
were  rattling  over  the  streets,  the  first  stage  to  C . 

It  was  late  at  night  when  Lord  Vargrave  arrived  at 
the  head  inn  of  that  grave  and  respectable  cathedral 
city  in  which  once  Richard  Templeton,  Esq.,  saint, 
banker,   and   politician,    had   exercised   his   dictatorial 


ALICE  ;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES.  377 

sway.  Sic  transit  gloria  mundi  /  As  he  warmed  his 
hands  by  the  fire  in  the  large,  wainscoted  apartment  into 
which  he  was  shown,  his  eye  met  a  full-length  engrav- 
ing of  his  uncle,  with  a  roll  of  papers  in  his  hand, — 
meant  for  a  parliamentary  bill  for  the  turnpike  trusts  in 

the    neighborhood  of  C .      The   sight  brought  back 

his  recollections  of  that  pious  and  saturnine  relation ; 
and  insensibly  the  minister's  thoughts  flew  to  his  death- 
bed, and  to  the  strange  secret  which,  in  that  last  hour, 
he  had  revealed  to  Lumley,  — a  secret  which  had  done 
much  in  deepening  Ijord  Vargrave's  contempt  for  the 
forms  and  conventionalities  of  decorous  life.  And  here 
it  may  be  mentioned  —  though  in  the  course  of  this 
volume  a  penetrating  reader  may  have  guessed  as  much 
—  that  whatever  that  secret,  it  did  not  refer  expressly 
or  exclusively  to  the  late  lord's  singular  and  ill-assorted 
marriage.  Upon  that  point  much  was  still  left  obscure 
to  arouse  Lumley 's  curiosity,  had  he  been  a  man  whose 
curiosity  was  very  vivacious.  But  on  this  he  felt  but 
little  interest.  He  knew  enough  to  believe  that  no  fur- 
ther information  could  benefit  himself  personally.  Why 
should  he  trouble  his  head  with  what  never  would  fill 
his  pockets  1 

An  audible  yawn  from  the  slim  secretary  roused  Lord 
Vargrave  from  his  reverie. 

"I  envy  you,  my  young  friend,"  said  he,  good- 
humoredly.  - "  It  is  a  pleasure  we  lose  as  we  grow 
older,  —  that  of  being  sleepy.  However,  'to  bed,'  as 
Lady  Macbeth  says.  Faith,  I  don't  wonder  the  poor 
devil  of  a  thane  was  slow  in  going  to  bed  with  such  a 
tigress.     Good-night  to  you." 


378  AUCE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER  IL 

Ma  fortune  va  prendre  une  face  nouvelle> 

Kacine:  Androin.,  Act.  L  Sc.  1. 

The  next  morning  Vargrave  inquired  the  way  to  Mr. 
Winsley's,  and  walked  alone  to  the  house  of  the  brewer. 
The  slim  secretary  went  to  inspect  the  cathedral. 

Mr.  Winsley  was  a  little,  thickset  man,  with  a  civil 
but  blunt  electioneering  manner.  He  started  when  he 
heard  Lord  Vargrave's  name,  and  bowed  with  great 
stiffness.  Vargrave  saw  at  a  glance  that  there  was  some 
cause  of  grudge  in  the  mind  of  tlie  worthy  man ;  nor  did 
^Ir.  Winsley  long  hesitate  before  he  cleansed  his  bosom 
of  its  perilous  stuff. 

"  This  is  an  unexpected  honor,  my  lord;  I  don't  know 
how  to  account  for  it." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Winsley,  your  friendship  with  my  late 
uncle  can,  perhaps,  sufficiently  explain  and  apologize 
for  a  visit  from  a  nephew  sincerely  attached  to  his 
memory. " 

"Humph!  I  certainly  did  do  all  in  my  power  to 
promote  Mr.  Templeton's  interests.  No  man,  I  may 
say,  did  more;  and  yet  I  don't  think  it  was  much 
thought  of   the  moment  he  turned  his  back  upon  the 

electors  of  C .     Not  that  I  bear  any  malice;  I  am 

well  to  do,  and  value  no  man's  favor, — no  man's,  my 
lord!" 

"  You  amaze  me !  I  always  heard  my  poor  uncia 
speak  of  you  in  the  highest  terms." 

^  My  fortune  is  about  to  take  a  turn. 


ALICE  ;   OR,  THE   MVSTHKIES.  379 

"Oh,  well,  it  don't  signify;  pray,  say  no  more  of 
it.     Can  I  ofler  your  lordship  a  glass  of  wine?  " 

"  No,  I  am  much  obliged  to  you ;  but  we  really  must 
set  this  little  matter  riglit.     You  know  that  after  his 

marriage,   my   uncle   never   revisited   C ;    and   that 

shortly  before  his  death  he  sold  the  greater  part  of  his 
interest  in  this  city.  His  young  wife,  I  suppose,  liked 
the  neighborhood  of  London,  and  when  elderly  gentle- 
men do  marry,  you  know,  they  are  no  longer  their  own 
masters;  but  if  you  had  ever  come  to  Fulham, — ah, 
then,  indeed,  my  uncle  would  have  rejoiced  to  see  his 
old  friend." 

"Your  lordship  thinks  so,"  said  Mr.  Winsley,  with 
a  sardonic  smile.  "  You  are  mistaken ;  I  did  call  at 
Fulham,  and  though  I  sent  in  my  card.  Lord  Var- 
grave's  servant  (he  was  then  My  Lord)  brought  back 
word  that  his  lordship  was  not  at  home." 

"  But  that  must  have  been  true ;  he  was  out,  you  may 
depend  on  it." 

"I  saw  him  at  the  window,  my  lord,"  said  Mr. 
Winsley,  taking  a  pinch  of  snuff. 

("  Oh,  the  deuce!     I  'm  in  for  it,"  thought  Lumley.) 

"Very  strange,  indeed!  but  how  can  you  account  for 
it  1  Ah !  perhaps  the  health  of  Lady  Vargrave :  she  was 
so  very  delicate  then,  and  my  poor  uncle  lived  for 
her;  you  know  that  he  left  all  his  fortune  to  Miss 
Cameron  ? " 

"  Miss  Cameron!     Who  is  she,  my  lord?  " 

"Why,  his  daughter-in-law;  Lady  Vargrave  was  a 
widow,  —  a  Mrs.  Cameron." 

"  Mrs.  Cam —  I  remember  now :  they  put  Cameron 
in  the  newspapers;  but  I  thought  it  was  a  mistake. 
But,  perhaps,"  added  Winsley,  with  a  sneer  of  peculiar 
malignity,  —  "  perhaps,  when  your  worthy  uncle  thought 


380  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

of  being  a  peer,  he  did  not  like  to  have  it  known  that 
he  married  so  much  beneath  him." 

"You  quite  mistake,  my  dear  sir;  my  uncle  never 
denied  that  jMrs.  Cameron  was  a  lady  of  no  fortune  or 
connections,  —  widow  to  some  poor  Scotch  gentleman, 
who  died,  I  think,  in  India." 

"  He  left  her  very  ill  off,  poor  thing;  but  she  had  a 
great  deal  of  merit,  and  worked  hard  —  she  taught  my 
girls  to  play  —  " 

"Your  girls!  Did  Mrs.  Cameron  ever  reside  in 
C ?" 

"  To  be  sure;  but  she  was  then  called  Mrs.  Butler, — 
just  as  pretty  a  name,  to  my  fancy." 

"  You  must  make  a  mistake ;  my  uncle  married  this 
lady  in  Devonshire." 

"  Very  possibly,"  quoth  the  brewer,  doggedly.  "  IMrs. 
Butler  left  the  town,  Avith  her  little  girl,  some  time 
before  Mr.   Templeton  married." 

"  Well,  you  are  wiser  than  I  am,"  said  Lumley,  forc- 
ing a  smile.  "  But  how  can  you  be  sure  that  Mrs. 
Butler  and  Mrs.  Cameron  are  one  and  the  same  person  ? 
You  did  not  go  into  the  house,  —  you  could  not  have 
seen  Lady  Vargrave "  (and  here  Lumley  shrewdly 
guessed  —  if  the  tale  were  true  —  at  the  cause  of  his 
uncle's  exclusion  of  his  old  acquaintance). 

"  No;  but  I  saw  her  ladysliip  on  the  lawn,"  said  Mr. 
Winsley,  with  another  sardonic  smile;  "and  I  asked 
the  porter  at  the  lodge  as  I  went  out,  if  that  was  Lady 
Vargrave,  and  he  said  'yes.'  However,  my  lord,  by- 
gones are  bygones:  I  bear  no  malice;  your  uncle  was 
a  good  man ;  and  if  he  had  but  said  to  me,  '  Winsley, 
don't  say  a  word  about  Mrs.  Butler,'  he  might  have 
reckoned  on  me  just  as  much  as  when  in  his  elections 
he  used  to  put  five  thousand  pounds  in  my  hands,  and 


ALICE;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES.  381 

say,  *  Winslej',  no  bribery,  —  it  is  wicked;  let  this  be 
given  in  charity.'  Did  any  one  ever  know  how  that 
money  went?  Was  your  imcle  ever  accused  of  cor- 
ruption ?  —  But,  my  lord,  surely  you  will  take  some 
refreshment  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed;  but  if  you  will  let  me  dine  with  you 
to-morrow,  you'll  oblige  me  much;  and  whatever  my 
iincle's  faults  (and  latterly,  poor  man,  he  was  hardly  in 
his  senses:  what  a  will  he  made!),  let  not  the  nephew 
suffer  for  them.  Come,  Mr.  Winsley,"  and  Lumley 
held  out  his  hand  with  enchanting  frankness,  "  you 
know  my  motives  are  disinterested:  I  have  no  parlia- 
mentary interest  to  serve,  —  we  have  no  constituents  for 
our  Hospital  of  Incurables;  and  —  oh!  that's  right: 
we  're  friends,  I  see.  Now  I  must  go  and  look  after 
my  ward's  houses.  Let  me  see,  the  agent's  name  is  — 
is—" 

**  Perkins,  I  think,  my  lord,"  said  Mr.  Winsley, 
thoroughly  softened  by  the  charm  of  Vargrave's  words 
and  manner.  "  Let  me  put  on  my  hat,  and  show  you 
his  house." 

"  Will  you  ?  That 's  very  kind ;  give  me  all  the 
election  news  by  the  way,  —  you  know  I  was  once 
within  an  ace  of  being  your  member." 

Yargrave  learned  from  his  new  friend  some  further 
particulars  relative  to  Mrs.  Butler's  humble  habits  and 

homely  mode  of  life  at  C ,  which  served  completely 

to  explain  to  him  why  his  proud  and  worldly  uncle  had 
so  carefully  abstained  from  all  intercourse  with  that 
city,  and  had  prevented  the  nephew  from  standing  for 
its  vacant  representation.  It  seemed,  however,  that 
Winsley  —  whose  resentment  was  not  of  a  very  active 
or  violent  kind  —  had  not  communicated  the  discovery 
he  had  made  to  his  fellow-townspeople,    but  had  con- 


382  ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

tented  himself  with  hints  and  aphorisms,  whenever  he 
had  heard  the  subject  of  Mr.  Templeton's  marriage  dis- 
cussed, which  had  led  the  gossips  of  the  place  to  imagine 
that  he  had  made  a  much  worse  selection  than  he  really 
had.  As  to  the  accuracy  of  Winsley's  assertion,  Var- 
grave,  though  surprised  at  first,  had  but  little  doubt  on 
consideration,  especially  when  he  heard  that  Mrs.  But- 
ler's principal  patroness  had  been  the  Mrs.  Leslie  now 
the  intimate  friend  of  Lady  Vargrave.  But  what  had 
been  the  career,  what  the  earlier  condition  and  struggles, 
of  this  simple  and  interesting  creature  ?  With  her  ap- 
pearance at  C commenced  all  that   surmise   could 

invent.  Not  greater  was  the  mystery  that  wrapped  the 
apparition  of  Manco  Capac  by  the  lake  Titicaca  than 
that  which  shrouded  the  places  and  the  trials  whence 
the  lowly  teacher  of  music  had  emerged  amidst  the 
streets  of  C . 

Weary,  and  somewhat  careless,  of  conjecture,  Lord 
Vargrave,  in  dining  with  Mr.  Winsley,  turned  the  con- 
versation upon  the  business  on  which  he  had  principally 
undertaken  his  journey, — namely,  the  meditated  pur- 
chase of  Lisle  Court. 

"  I  myself  am  not  a  very  good  judge  of  landed  prop- 
erty," said  Vargrave;  "  I  wish  I  knew  of  an  experienced 
surveyor  to  look  over  the  farms  and  timber.  Can  you 
help  me  to  such  a  one  1  " 

Mr.  Winsley  smiled,  and  glanced  at  a  rosy-cheeked 
young  lady,  who  simpered  and  turned  away.  "  I  think 
my  daughter  could  recommend  one  to  your  lordship,  if 
she  dared." 

"Oh,  pa!" 

"  I  see.  Well,  Miss  Winsley,  I  will  take  no  recom- 
mendation but  yours." 

Miss  Winsley  made  an  effort. 


jslice;  ok,  the  mysteries.  383 

"Indeed,  my  lord,  I  have  always  heard  Mr,  Robert 
Hobbs  considered  very  clever  in  his  profession." 

"Mr.  liobert  Hobbs  is  my  man!  His  good  health, 
—  and  a  fair  wife  to  him !  " 

Miss  Winsley  glanced  at  mamma,  and  then  at  a 
younger  sister,  and  then  there  was  a  titter,  and  then 
a  fluttering,  and  then  a  rising,  and  Mr.  Winsley,  Lord 
Vargrave,  and  the  slim  secretary  were  left  alone. 

"  Really,  my  lord,"  said  the  host,  resettling  himself, 
and  pushing  the  wine,  "  though  you  have  guessed  our 
little  family  arrangement,  and  I  have  some  interest  in 
the  recommendation, — since  Margaret  will  be  Mrs, 
Robert  Hobbs  in  a  few  weeks,  —  yet  I  do  not  know  a 
more  acute,  intelligent  young  man  anywhere.  Highly 
respectable,  with  an  independent  fortune;  his  father  is 
lately  dead,  and  made  at  least  thirty  thousand  pounds  in 
trade.  His  brother  Edward  is  also  dead;  so  he  has  the 
bulk  of  the  property,  and  he  follows  his  profession 
merely  for  amusement.  He  would  consider  it  a  great 
honor. " 

"  And  where  does  he  livel  " 

"Oh,  not  in  this  county, — a  long  way  off:  close  to 

;  but   it   is   all   in  your  lordship's  road,      A  very 

nice  house  he  has  too.  I  have  known  his  family  since 
I  was  a  boy :  it  is  astonishing  how  his  father  improved 
the  place;  it  was  a  poor  little  lath-and-plaster  cottage 
when  the  late  Mr,  Hobbs  bought  it,  and  it  is  now  a  very 
excellent  family  house," 

"  Well,  you  shall  give  me  the  address  and  a  letter  of 
introduction,  and  so  much  for  that  matter.  But  to 
return  to  politics ; "  and  here  Lord  Vargrave  ran  elo- 
quently on,  till  Mr.  Winsley  thought  him  the  only 
man  in  the  world  who  could  save  the  country  from  that 


3:'4  ALICE;  OR,  the  mysteries. 

utter  annihilation  the  possibility  of  which  he  had  never 
even  suspected  before. 

It  may  be  as  well  to  add  that,  on  wishing  Lord  Yar- 
grave  good-night,  Mr.  Winsley  whispered  in  his  ear, 
"  Your  lordship's  friend.  Lord  Staunch,  need  be  under 
no  apprehension,  — we  are  all  right!  " 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  385 


CHAPTER   III. 

This  is  the  house,  sir.  — Love's  Pilgrimage,  Act  iv.  Sc.  2. 
Redeunt  Saturnia  regna.^  —  Virgil. 

The  next  morning  Lumley  and  his  slender  companion 
were  rolling  rapidly  over  the  same  road  on  which,  six- 
teen years  ago,  way-worn  and  weary,  Alice  Darvil  had 
first  met  with  Mrs.  Leslie ;  they  were  talking  about  a  new 
opera-dancer  as  they  whirled  by  the  very  spot. 

It  was  about  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  the  next 
day,  when  the  carriage  stopped  at  a  cast-iron  gate,  on 
which  was  inscribed  this  epigraph, — "  Hobbs's  Lodge  — 
Ring  the  Bell." 

"  A  snug  place  enough, "  said  Lord  Vargrave,  as  they 
were  waiting  the  arrival  of  the  footman  to  unbar  the 
gate. 

"  Yes, "  said  Mr.  Howard.  "  If  a  retired  Cit  could 
be  transformed  into  a  house,  such  is  the  house  he 
would  be." 

Poor  Dale  Cottage,  —  the  home  of  poetry  and  passion ! 
But  change  visits  the  commonplace  as  well  as  the 
romantic.  Since  Alice  had  pressed  to  that  cold  grating 
her  wistful  eyes,  time  had  wrought  its  allotted  revolutions, 
the  old  had  died,  the  young  g^o^\^l  up.  Of  the  chil- 
dren playing  on  the  lawn,  death  had  claimed  some,  and 
marriage  others ;  and  the  holiday  of  youth  was  gone  for 
aU. 

The  servant  opened  the  gate.  Mr.  Robert  Hobbs  was 
at  home ;  he  had  friends  with  him,  —  he  was  engaged. 

1  A  former  state  of  things  returns. 
25 


386  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

Lord  Vargrave  sent  in  his  card  and  the  introductory  let- 
ter from  Mr.  Winsley.  In  two  seconds  these  missives 
brought  to  the  gate  Mr.  Robert  Hobbs  himself:  a  smart 
young  man,  with  a  black  stock,  red  whiskers,  and  an 
eye-glass  pendent  to  a  hair-chain  which  was  possibly  a 
garje  d^ amour  from  Miss  Margaret  Winsley. 

A  profusion  of  bows,  compliments,  apologies,  etc., 
the  carriage  drove  up  the  sweep,  and  Lord  Vargrave  de- 
scended, and  was  immediately  ushered  into  Mr.  Hobbs's 
private  room.  The  slim  secretary  followed,  and  sat  silent, 
melancholy,  and  upright,  while  the  peer  affably  explained 
his  wants  and  wishes  to  the  surveyor. 

Mr.  Hobbs  was  well  acquainted  with  the  locality  of 
Lisle  Court,  which  was  little  more  than  thirty  miles 
distant;  he  should  be  proud  to  accompany  Lord  Var- 
grave thither  the  next  morning.  But  might  he  venture, 
might  he  dare,   might  he  presume  —  a  gentleman   who 

lived  at  the  town  of was    to  dine   with  him  that 

day:  a  gentleman  of  the  most  profound  knowledge  of 
agricultural  affairs;  a  gentleman  who  knew  every  farm, 
almost  every  acre,  belonging  to  Colonel  Maltravers;  if 
his  lordship  could  be  induced  to  waive  ceremony  and 
dine  with  Mr,  Hobbs,  it  might  be  really  useful  to  meet 
this  gentleman.  The  slim  secretary,  who  was  very  hun- 
gry, and  who  thought  he  sniffed  an  uncommonly  savory 
smell,  looked  up  from  his  boots.  Lord  Vargrave 
smiled. 

"  My  young  friend  here  is  too  great  an  admirer  of  Mrs. 
Hobbs, —  who  is  to  be,  —  not  to  feel  anxious  to  make  the 
acquaintance  of  any  members  of  the  family  she  is  to 
enter. " 

Mr.  George  Frederick  Augustus  Howard  blushed  in- 
dignant refutation  of  the  calumnious  charge.  Vargrave 
continued :  — 


ALICE  ;  OR,  THE   MYSTEUIES.  3S7 

"  As  for  me,  I  shall  be  delighted  to  meet  any  friends 
of  yours,  and  am  greatly  obliged  for  your  consideration. 
We  may  dismiss  the  postboys,  Howard;  and  what  time 
shall  we  summon  them,  —  ten  o'clock  ?  " 

"  If  your  lordship  would  condescend  to  accept  a  bed, 
we  can  accommodate  your  lordship  and  this  gentleman, 
and  start  at  any  hour  in  the  morning  that  —  " 

"  So  be  it, "  interrupted  Vargrave.  "  You  speak  like 
a  man  of  business.  Howard,  be  so  kind  as  to  order  the 
horses  for  six  o'clock  to-morrow.  We  '11  breakfast  at 
Lisle  Court." 

This  matter  settled,  Lord  Vargrave  and  Mr.  Howard 
were  shown  into  their  respective  apartments.  Travel- 
ling dresses  were  changed,  the  dinner  put  back,  and 
the  fish  overboiled;  but  what  mattered  common  fish, 
when  Mr.  Hobbs  had  just  caught  such  a  big  one  1  Of 
what  consequence  he  should  be,  henceforth  and  ever!  A 
peer,  a  minister,  a  stranger  to  the  county,  —  to  come  all 
this  way  to  consult  him;  to  be  his  guest ;  to  be  shown 
off,  and  patted,  and  trotted  out  before  all  the  rest  of  the 
company!  Mr.  Hobbs  was  a  made  man!  Careless  of 
all  this,  ever  at  home  with  any  one,  and  delighted,  per- 
haps, to  escape  a  tete-a-tete  with  Mr.  Howard  in  a  strange 
inn,  —  Vargrave  lounged  into  the  drawing-room,  and  was 
formally  presented  to  the  expectant  family  and  the 
famishing  guests. 

During  the  expiring  bachelorship  of  Mr.  Robert  Hobbs, 
his  sister,  Mrs.  Tiddy  (to  whom  the  reader  was  first  in- 
troduced as  a  bride,  gathering  the  wisdom  of  economy 
and  large  joints  from  the  frugal  lips  of  her  mamma),  offi- 
ciated as  lady  of  the  house,  —  a  comely  matron,  and 
well  preserved,  except  that  she  had  lost  a  front  tooth, — 
in  a  jaundiced  satinet  gown,  with  a  fall  of  British  blonde 
and  a  tucker  of  the  same,  Mr.  Tiddy  being  a  starch  man, 


383  ALICE;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES. 

and  not  willing  that  the  luxuriant  charms  of  Mrs.  T. 
should  be  too  temptingly  exposed.  There  was  also  Mr. 
Tiddy,  whom  his  wife  had  married  for  love,  and  who 
was  now  well  to  do, —  a  fine-looking  man,  with  large 
whiskers,  and  a  Roman  nose  a  little  awry.  Moreover, 
there  was  a  Miss  Biddy  or  Bridget  Hobbs,  a  young  lady 
of  four  or  five  and  twenty,  who  was  considering  whether 
she  might  ask  Lord  Vargrave  to  write  something  in  her 
album,  and  who  cast  a  bashful  look  of  admiration  at  the 
slim  secretary,  as  he  now  sauntered  into  the  room,  in  a 
black  coat,  black  waistcoat,  black  trousers,  and  black 
neckcloth,  with  a  black  pin,  —  looking  much  like  an  ebony 
cane  split  halfway  up.  j\Iiss  Biddy  was  a  fair  young 
lady,  a  leetle  faded,  with  uncommonly  thin  arms  and 
white  satin  shoes,  on  which  the  slim  secretary  cast  his 
eyes  and  —  shuddered. 

In  addition  to  the  family  group  Avere  the  rector  of , 

an  agreeable  man,  who  published  sermons  and  poetry; 
also  Sir  "William  Jekyll,  who  was  employing  Mr.  Hobbs 
to  make  a  map  of  an  estate  he  had  just  purchased;  also 
two  country  squires  and  their  two  wives ;  moreover,  the 
physician  of  the  neighboring  town,  —  a  remarkably  tall 
man,  who  wore  spectacles  and  told  anecdotes ;  and,  lastly, 
Mr.  Onslow,  the  gentleman  to  whom  Mr.  Hobbs  had 
referred,  —  an  elderly  man  of  prepossessing  exterior,  of 
high  repute  as  the  most  efficient  magistrate,  the  best 
farmer,  and  the  most  sensible  person  in  the  neighbor- 
hood. This  made  the  party,  to  each  individual  of  which 
the  great  man  bowed  and  smiled;  and  the  great  man's 
secretary  bent  condescendingly  three  joints  of  his  back- 
bone. 

The  bell  was  now  rung,  —  dinner  announced.  Sir 
William  Jekyll  led  the  way  with  one  of  the  she-squires, 
and  Lord  Vargrave  offered  his  arm  to  the  portly  Mrs. 
Tiddy. 


ALICE  ;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  389 

Vargrave,  as  usual,  was  the  life  of  the  feast.  Mr. 
Howard,  who  sat  next  to  Miss  Bridget,  conversed  with 
her  between  the  courses,  "  in  dumb  sliow."  Mr.  Onslow 
and  the  physician  played  second  and  third  to  Lord  Var- 
grave. When  the  dinner  was  over,  and  the  ladies  had 
retired,  Vargrave  found  himself  seated  next  to  ]\Ir.  On- 
slow, and  discovered  in  his  neighbor  a  most  agreeable 
companion.  They  talked  principally  about  Lisle  Court ; 
and  from  Colonel  Maltravers,  the  conversation  turned 
naturally  upon  Ernest.  Vargrave  proclaimed  his  early  in- 
timacy with  the  latter  gentleman,  complained  feelingly 
that  politics  had  divided  them  of  late,  and  told  two  or 
three  anecdotes  of  their  youthful  adventures  in  the  East. 
Mr.  Onslow  listened  to  him  with  much  attention. 

"  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  Mr.  Maltravers  many 
years  ago, "  .said  he,  "  and  upon  a  very  delicate  occasion. 
I  was  greatly  interested  in  him;  I  never  saw  one  so 
young  (for  he  was  then  but  a  boy)  manifest  feelings  so 
deep.  By  the  dates  you  have  referred  to,  your  acquaint- 
ance with  him  must  have  commenced  very  shortly 
after  mine.  Was  he  at  that  time  cheerful,  —  in  good 
spirits  ?  " 

"No,  indeed, — hypochondriacal  to  the  greatest  de- 
gree. " 

"  Your  lordship's  intimacy  with  him,  and  the  confi- 
dence that  generally  exists  between  young  men,  induce 
me  to  suppose  that  he  may  have  told  you  a  little  romance 
connected  with  his  early  years. " 

Lumley  paused  to  consider;  and  this  conversation, 
which  had  been  carried  on  apart,  was  suddenly  broken 
into  by  the  tall  doctor,  who  wanted  to  know  whether  his 
lordship  had  ever  heard  the  anecdote  about  Lord  Thur- 
low  and  the  late  King.  The  anecdote  was  as  long  as  the 
doctor  himself,  and  when  it  was  over,  the  gentlemen 


390  ALICE;  OR,  THE   MYSTEKIES. 

adjourned  to  the  drawing-room,  and  all  conversation  was 
immediately  drowned  by  "  Row,  brothers,  row, "  which 
had  only  been  suspended  till  the  arrival  of  Mr.  Tiddy, 
who  had  a  fine  bass  voice. 

Alas!  eighteen  years  ago,  in  that  spot  of  earth,  Alice 
Darvil  had  first  caught  the  soul  of  music  from  the  lips 
of  genius  and  of  love !  But  better  as  it  is,  —  less  roman- 
tic, but  more  proper,  —  as  Hobbs's  Lodge  was  less  pretty, 
but  more  safe  from  the  winds  and  rains,  than  Dale 
Cottage. 

Miss  Bridget  ventured  to  ask  the  good-humored  Lord 
Vargrave  if  he  sang.  "  Not  I,  Miss  Hobbs ;  but  Howard, 
there,  —  ah,  if  you  heard  him  !  "  The  consequence  of 
this  hint  was  that  the  unhappy  secretary,  who,  alone  in 
a  distant  comer,  was  unconsciously  refreshing  his  fancy 
with  some  cool,  weak  coffee,  was  instantly  beset  with 
applications  from  Miss  Bridget,  Mrs.  Tiddy,  Mr.  Tiddy, 
and  the  tall  doctor,  to  favor  the  company  with  a  speci- 
men of  his  talents.  Mr.  Howard  could  smg,  —  he  could 
even  play  the  guitar.  But  to  sing  at  Hobbs's  Lodge,  to 
sing  to  the  accompaniment  of  Mrs.  Tiddy,  to  have  his 
gentle  tenor  crushed  to  death  in  a  glee  by  the  heavy 
splayfoot  of  Mr.  Tiddy 's  manly  bass,  —  the  thought  was 
insufferable!  He  faltered  forth  assurances  of  his  igno- 
rance, and  hastened  to  bury  his  resentment  in  the  retire- 
ment of  a  remote  sofa.  Vargrave,  who  had  forgotten  the 
significant  question  of  Mr.  Onslow,  renewed  in  a  whis- 
per his  conversation  with  that  gentleman  relative  to  the 
meditated  investment,  while  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tiddy  sang, 
"  Come  dwell  with  me ;  "  and  Onslow  was  so  pleased  with 
his  new  acquaintance  that  he  volunteered  to  make  a 
fourtli  in  Lumley's  carriage  the  next  morning,  and  ac- 
company him  to  Lisle  Court.  This  settled,  the  party 
soon  afterwards  broke  up.     At  midnight  Lord  Vargrave 


ALICE  ;  OK,  THE  MYSTERIES.  391 

was  fast  asleep;  and  Mr.  Howard,  tossing  restlessly  to 
and  fro  on  his  melancholy  couch,  was  revolving  all  the 
hardships  that  await  a  native  of  St.  James's,  who  ven- 
tures forth  among 

"  The  Anthropophagi,  and  men  whose  heads 
Do  grow  beneath  their  shoulders  !  " 


392  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

But  how  were  these  doubts  to  be  changed  into  absolute 
certainty  1  —  Edgae  Huntley.  ' 

The  next  morning,  while  it  was  yet  dark,  Lord  Var- 
grave's  carriage  picked  up  Mr.  Onslow  at  the  door  of  a 
large  old-fashioned  house,  at  the  entrance  of  the  manu- 
facturing  town   of   .     The   party  were  silent   and 

sleepy  till  they  arrived  at  Lisle  Court:  the  sun  had 
then  appeared;  the  morning  was  clear,  the  air  frosty 
and  bracing.  And  as,  after  traversing  a  noble  park,  a 
superb  quadrangular  pile  of  brick,  flanked  by  huge 
square  turrets  coped  with  stone,  broke  upon  the  gaze  of 
Lord  Vargrave,  his  worldly  heart  swelled  within  him, 
and  the  image  of  Evelyn  became  inexpressibly  lovely 
and  seductive. 

Though  the  housekeeper  was  not  prepared  for  Yar- 
grave's  arrival  at  so  early  an  hour,  yet  he  had  been 
daily  expected:  the  logs  soon  burned  bright  in  the 
ample  hearth  of  the  breakfast-room,  the  um  hissed,  the 
cutlets  smoked;  and  while  the  rest  of  the  party  gathered 
round  the  fire,  and  unmuffled  themselves  of  cloaks  and 
shawl-handkerchiefs,  Vargrave,  seizing  upon  the  house- 
keeper, traversed  with  delighted  steps  the  magnificent 
suite  of  rooms,  gazed  on  the  pictures,  admired  the  state 
bed-chambers,  peeped  into  the  offices,  and  recognized  in 
all  a  mansion  worthy  of  a  peer  of  England;  but  which 
a  more  prudent  man  would  have  thought,  with  a  sigh, 
required  careful  management  of  the  rent-roll  raised  from 


ALICE;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  393 

the  property  adequately  to  equip  and  maintain.  Such  aa 
idea  did  not  cross  the  mind  of  Vargrave;  he  only 
thought  how  much  he  should  be  honored  and  envied 
when,  as  Secretary  of  State,  he  should  yearly  fill  those 
feudal  chambers  with  the  pride  and  rank  of  England. 
It  was  characteristic  of  the  extraordinary  sanguineness 
and  self-confidence  of  Vargrave  that  he  entirely  over- 
looked one  slight  obstacle  to  this  prospect,  in  the  deter- 
mined refusal  of  Evelyn  to  accept  that  passionate  homage 
which  he  offered  to  —  her  fortune ! 

When  breakfast  was  over,  the  steward  was  called  in, 
and  the  party,  mounted  upon  ponies,  set  out  to  recon- 
noitre. After  spending  the  short  day  most  agreeably  in 
looking  over  the  gardens,  pleasure-grounds,  park,  and 
home-farm,  and  settling  to  visit  the  more  distant  parts 
of  the  property  the  next  day,  the  party  were  returning 
home  to  dine,  when  Vargrave 's  eye  caught  the  glittering 
whim  of  Sir  Gregory  Gubbins. 

He  pointed  it  out  to  Mr.  Onslow,  and  laughed  much 
at  hearing  of  the  annoyance  it  occasioned  to  Colonel 
Maltravers.  "  Thus,"  said  Lumley,  "  do  we  all  crumple 
the  rose-leaf  under  us,  and  quarrel  with  couches  the 
most  luxuriant!  As  for  me,  I  will  wager  that  were 
this  property  mine,  or  my  ward's,  in  three  weeks  we 
should  have  won  the  heart  of  Sir  Gregory,  made  him 
pull  down  his  whim,  and  coaxed  him  out  of  his  interest 

in  the  city  of .     A  good  seat  for  you,  Howard,  some 

day  or  other." 

"Sir  Gregory  has  prodigiously  bad  taste,"  said  Mr. 
Hobbs.  "  For  my  part,  I  think  that  there  ought  to  be 
a  certain  modest  simplicity  in  the  display  of  wealth  got 
in  business :  that  was  my  poor  father's  maxim. " 

"  Ah!  "  said  Vargrave,  "  Hobbs's  Lodge  is  a  specimen. 
Who  was  your  predecessor  in  that  charming  retreat  1  " 


394  ALICE  ;   OK,   THE    MYSTERIES. 

"  Why,  the  place  —  then  called  Dale  Cottage  —  be- 
longed to  a  Mr.  Bemers,  a  rich  bachelor  in  business, 
who  was  rich  enough  not  to  mind  what  people  said  of 
him,  and  kept  a  lady  there.  She  ran  off  from  him,  and 
he  then  let  it  to  some  young  man :  a  stranger,  —  very 
eccentric,  I  hear,  a  Mr. — Mr.  Butler;  and  he  too 
gave  the  cottage  an  unlawful  attraction,  —  a  most  beau- 
tiful girl,  I  have  heard." 

"Butler!"  echoed  Vargrave, —"  Butler  —  Butler!  " 
Lumley  recollected  that  such  had  been  the  real  name 
of  Mrs.  Cameron. 

Onslow  looked  hard  at  Vargrave. 

"You  recognize  the  name,  my  lord,"  said  he,  in  a 
whisper,  as  Hobbs  had  turned  to  address  himself  to 
Mr.  Howard.  "  I  thought  you  very  discreet  when  I 
asked  you,  last  night,  if  you  remembered  the  early  follies 
of  your  friend."  A  suspicion  at  once  flashed  upon  the 
quick  mind  of  Vargrave:  Butler  was  a  name  on  the 
mother's  side  in  the  family  of  Maltravers.  The  gloom  of 
Ernest  when  he  first  knew  him;  the  boy's  hints  that  the 
gloom  Avas  connected  with  the  affections;  the  extraor- 
dinary and  single  accomplishment  of  Lady  Vargrave  in 
that  art  of  which  Maltravers  was  so  consummate  a  mas- 
ter; the  similarity  of  name,  — all  taken  in  conjunction 
with  the  meaning  question  of  Mr.  Onslow  were  enough 
to  suggest  to  Vargrave  that  he  might  be  on  the  verge  of 
a  family  secret,  the  knowledge  of  Avhich  could  be  turned 
to  advantage.  He  took  care  not  to  confess  his  igno- 
rance, but  artfully  proceeded  to  draw  out  Mr.  Onslow's 
communications. 

"Why,  it  is  true,"  said  he,  "that  Maltravers  and  I 
had  no  secrets.  Ah!  we  were  wild  fellows  then;  the 
name  of  Butler  is  in  his  family,  —  eh?  " 

"  It  is.     I  see  you  know  all. " 


ALICE;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  395 

"  Yes;  he  told  me  the  story,  but  it  is  eighteen  years 
ago.  Do  refresh  my  memory.  — Howard,  my  good  fel- 
low, just  ride  on  and  expedite  dinner;  Mr.  Hobhs,  will 
you  go  with  jMr.  What's-his-name,  the  steward,  and 
look  over  the  maps,  outgoings,  etc.  ?  Now,  Mr.  Onslow, 
—  so  Maltravers  took  the  cottage,  and  a  lady  with  it] 
Ay ,  I  remember. " 

Mr.  Onslow  (who  was  in  fact  that  magistrate  to  whom 
Ernest  had  confided  his  name  and  committed  the  search 
after  Alice,  and  who  was  really  anxious  to  know  if  any 
tidings  of  the  poor  girl  had  ever  been  ascertained)  here 
related  that  history  with  which  the  reader  is  acquainted: 
the  robbery  of  the  cottage,  the  disappearance  of  Alice, 
the  suspicions  that  connected  that  disappearance  with 
her  ruffian  father ;  the  despair  and  search  of  jVIaltravers. 
He  added  that  Ernest,  both  before  his  departiire  from 
England  and  on  his  return,  had  written  to  him  to  learn 
if  Alice  had  ever  been  heard  of;  the  replies  of  the  mag- 
istrate were  unsatisfactory.  "And  do  you  think,  my 
lord,  that  Mr.  Maltravers  has  never  to  this  day  ascer- 
tained what  became  of  the  poor  young  woman  1  " 

"  Why,  let  me  see  ;    what  was  her  name  ?  " 

The  magistrate  thought  a  moment,  and  replied,  "  Alice 
Darvil." 

"Alice!"  exclaimed  Vargrave.  "Alice!"  —  aware 
that  such  was  the  Christian  name  of  his  uncle's  wife, 
and  now  almost  convinced  of  the  truth  of  his  first  vague 
suspicion. 

"  You  seem  to  know  the  name  f  " 

"  Of  Alice,  yes;  but  not  Darvil.  No,  no;  I  believe 
he  has  never  heard  of  the  girl  to  this  hour.  Nor  you 
either  ?  " 

"  I  have  not.  One  little  circumstance  related  to  me 
by  Mr.  Hobbs,  your  surveyor's   father,  gave  me  some 


396  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

uneasiness.  About  two  years  after  the  young  woman 
disappeared,  a  girl,  of  very  humble  dress  and  appear- 
ance, stopped  at  the  gate  of  Hobbs's  Lodge  and  asked 
earnestly  for  Mr.  Butler.  On  hearing  he  was  gone,  she 
turned  away,  and  was  seen  no  more.  It  seems  that  this 
girl  had  an  infant  in  her  arms,  —  which  rather  shocked 
the  propriety  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hobbs.  The  old  gentle- 
man told  me  the  circumstance  a  few  days  after  it  hap- 
pened, and  I  caused  inquiry  to  be  made  for  the  stranger; 
but  she  could  not  be  discovered.  I  thought  at  first  this 
possibly  might  be  the  lost  Alice;  but  I  learned  that 
during  his  stay  at  the  cottage,  your  friend  —  despite  his 
error,  which  we  will  not  stop  to  excuse  —  had  exercised 
so  generous  and  wide  a  charity  amongst  the  poor  in  the 
town  and  neighborhood,  that  it  was  a  more  probable  sup- 
position of  the  two,  that  the  girl  belonged  to  some 
family  he  had  formerly  relieved,  and  her  visit  was 
that  of  a  mendicant,  not  a  mistress.  Accordingly,  after 
much  consideration,  I  resolved  not  to  mention  the  cir- 
cumstance to  Mr.  Maltravers  when  he  wrote  to  me  on 
his  return  from  the  Continent.  A  considerable  time 
had  then  elapsed  since  the  girl  had  applied  to  Mr. 
Hobbs:  all  trace  of  her  was  lost;  the  incident  might 
open  wounds  that  time  must  have  nearly  healed,  might 
give  false  hopes,  —  or,  what  was  worse,  occasion  a  fresh 
and  unfounded  remorse  at  the  idea  of  Alice's  destitu- 
tion; it  would,  in  fact,  do  no  good,  and  might  occasion 
much  unnecessary  pain.  I  therefore  suppressed  all  men- 
tion of  it." 

"  You  did  right:  and  so  the  poor  girl  had  an  infant  in 
her  arms?  Humph!  What  sort  of  looking  person  was 
this  Alice  Darvil,  —  pretty,  of  course?  " 

"  I  never  saw  her;  and  none  but  the  persons  employed 
in  the  premises  knew  her  by  sight,  —  they  described  her 
as  remarkably  lovely." 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  397 

"  Fair  and  slight,  with  blue  eyes,  I  suppose?  Those 
are  the  orthodox  requisites  of  a  heroine. " 

"  Upon  my  word  I  forget;  indeed,  I  should  never  have 
remembered  as  much  as  I  do,  if  the  celebrity  of  Mr. 
Maltravers,  and  the  consequence  of  his  family,  in  these 
parts,  together  with  the  sight  of  his  own  agony,  —  the 
most  painful  I  ever  witnessed,  —  had  not  served  to  im- 
press the  whole  affair  very  deeply  on  my  mind." 

"  Was  the  girl  who  appeared  at  the  gate  of  Hobbs's 
Lodge  described  to  you  1  " 

"  No;  they  scarcely  observed  her  countenance,  except 
that  her  complexion  was  too  fair  for  a  gypsy's:  yet,  now 
I  think  of  it,  Mrs.  Tiddy,  who  was  with  her  father 
when  he  told  me  the  adventure,  dwelt  particularly  on 
her  having  (as  you  so  pleasantly  conjecture)  fair  hair  and 
blue  eyes.  Mrs.  Tiddy,  being  just  married,  was  ro- 
mantic  at  that   day." 

"  Well,  it  is  an  odd  tale;  but  life  is  full  of  odd  tales. 
Here  we  are  at  the  house;  it  really  is  a  splendid  old 
place!  " 


398  ALICE;  OE,   THE   MYSTERIES, 


CHAPTER  V. 

Pendent  opera  interrupta.^  —  Virgil. 

The  history  Vargrave  had  heard,  he  revolved  much 
Avhen  he  retired  to  rest.  He  could  not  but  allow  that 
there  was  still  little  ground  for  more  than  conjecture 
that  Alice  Darvil  and  Alice,  Lady  Vargrave,  Avere  one 
and  the  same  person.  It  might,  however,  be  of  great 
importance  to  him  to  trace  this  conjecture  to  certainty. 
The  knowledge  of  a  secret  of  early  sin  and  degradation 
in  one  so  pure,  so  spotless,  as  Lady  Vargrave  might  be 
of  immense  service  in  giving  him  a  power  over  her, 
■which  he  could  turn  to  account  with  Evelyn.  How 
could  he  best  prosecute  further  inquiry,  —  by  repairing 
at  once  to  Brook-Green,  or  (the  thought  struck  him) 
by  visiting  and  "  pumping"  Mrs.   Leslie,  the  patroness 

of  Mrs.  Butler  of  C ,  the  friend  of  Lady  Vargrave? 

It  was  worth  trying  the  latter;  it  was  little  out  of  his 
Avay  back  to  London.  His  success  in  picking  the  brains 
of  Mr.  Onslow  of  a  secret  encouraged  him  in  the  hope 
of  equal  success  with  Mrs.  Leslie.  He  decided  accord- 
ingly, and  fell  asleep  to  dream  of  Christmas  battues, 
royal  visitors,  the  Cabinet,  the  premiership!  Well,  no 
possession  equals  the  dreams  of  it!  Sleep  on,  my  lord, 
—  you  would  be  restless  enough  if  you  were  to  get  all 
you  want. 

Eor  the  next  three  days  Lord  Vargrave  was  employed 
in  examining  the  general  outlines  of  the  estate,  and  the 

1  'ilie  things  begun  are  interrupted  and  suspended. 


ALICE;  Oli,   THE   MYSTERIES.  399 

result  of  this  survey  satisfied  him  as  to  the  expediency 
of  the  purchase.  On  the  third  day,  he  was  several  miles 
from  the  house  when  a  heavy  rain  came  on.  Lord 
Vargrave  was  constitutionally  hardy ;  and  not  having 
heen  much  exposed  to  visitations  of  the  weather  of 
late  years,  was  not  practically  aware  that  when  a  man  is 
past  forty,  he  cannot  eudure  ^7ith  impunity  all  that  falls 
innocuously  on  the  elasticity  of  twenty-six.  He  did 
not,  therefore,  heed  the  rain  that  drenched  him  to  the 
skin,  and  neglected  to  change  his  dress  till  he  had  fin- 
ished reading  some  letters  and  newspapers  which  awaited 
his  return  at  Lisle  Court.  The  consequence  of  this 
imprudence  was  that,  the  next  morning  when  he  woke, 
Lord  Vargrave  found  himself,  for  almost  the  first  time 
in  his  life,  seriously  ill.  His  head  ached  violently; 
cold  shiverings  shook  his  frame  like  an  ague;  the  very 
strength  of  the  constitution  on  which  the  fever  had 
begun  to  fasten  itself  augmented  its  danger.  Lumley 
—  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  think  of  the  possibility 
of  dying  —  fought  up  against  his  own  sensations,  ordered 
his  post-horses,  as  his  visit  of  survey  was  now  over,  and 
scarcely  even  alluded  to  his  indisposition.  About  an 
hour  before  he  set  off,  his  letters  arrived:  one  of  these 
informed  him  that  Caroline,  accompanied  by  Eve- 
lyn, had  already  arrived  in  Paris;  the  other  was  from 
Colonel  Legard,  respectfully  resigning  his  office,  on  the 
ground  of  "an  accession  of  fortune  by  the  sudden  death  of 
the  admiral,  and  his  intention  to  spend  the  ensuing  year 
in  a  Continental  excursion.  This  last  letter  occasioned 
Vargrave  considerable  alarm;  he  had  always  felt  a  deep 
jealousy  of  the  handsome  ex-guardsman,  and  he  at  once 
suspected  that  Legard  was  about  to  repair  to  Paris  as 
his  rival.  He  sighed,  and  looked  round  the  spacious 
apartment,  and  gazed  on  the  wide  prospects  of  grove  and 


400  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

turf  that  extended  from  the  window,  and  said  to  him- 
self, "  Is  another  to  snatch  these  from  my  grasp?  "  His 
impatience  to  visit  Mrs.  Leslie,  to  gain  ascendancy  over 
Lady  Vargrave,  to  repair  to  Paris,  to  scheme,  to  ma- 
noeuvre, to  triumph,  —  accelerated  the  progress  of  the  dis- 
ease that  was  now  burning  in  his  veins;  and  the  hand 
that  he  held  out  to  Mr.  Hobbs,  as  he  stepped  into  his 
carriage,  almost  scorched  the  cold,  plump,  moist  fingers 
of  the  surveyor.  Before  six  o'clock  in  the  evening, 
Lord  Vargrave  confessed  reluctantlj"^  to  himself  that  he 
was  too  ill  to  proceed  much  farther.  "Howard,"  said 
he  then,  breaking  a  silence  that  had  lasted  some  hours, 
"don't  be  alarmed;  I  feel  that  I  am  about  to  have  a 

severe  attack.     I  shall  stop  at  M "  (naming  a  large 

town  they  were  approaching) ;  "  I  shall  send  for  the  best 
physician  the  place  affords.  If  I  am  delirious  to-morrow, 
or  unable  to  give  my  own  orders,  have  the  kindness  to 
send  express  for  Dr.  Holland;  but  don't  leave  me  your- 
self, my  good  fellow.     At  my  age  it  is  a  hard  thing  to 

have  no  one  in  the  world  to  care  for  me  in  illness :  d n 

afifection  when  I  am  well!  " 

After  this  strange  burst,  which  very  much  frightened 
Mr.  Howard,  Lumley  relapsed  into  silence,  not  broken 

till  he  reached  M .     The  best  physician  was  sent 

for;  and  the  next  morning,  as  he  had  half  foreseen  and 
foretold,  Lord  Vargrave  was  delirious! 


ALICE;  OR,  THE  MYSTERIES.  401 


CHAPTER  VT. 

Nought  under  heaven  so  strongly  doth  allure 
The  sense  of  man,  and  all  his  mind  possess, 
As  Beauty's  love-bait. 

Spenser. 

Legabd  was,  as  I  have  before  intimated,  a  young  man 
of  generous  and  excellent  dispositions,  though  somewhat 
spoiled  by  the  tenor  of  his  education,  and  the  gay  and 
reckless  society  which  had  administered  tonics  to  his 
vanity  and  opiates  to  his  intellect.  The  effect  which 
the  beauty,  the  grace,  the  innocence,  of  Evelyn  had  pro- 
duced upon  him  had  been  most  deep  and  most  salutary. 
It  had  rendered  dissipation  tasteless  and  insipid;  it 
had  made  him  look  more  deeply  into  his  own  heart,  and 
into  the  rules  of  life.  Though,  partly  from  the  irk- 
someness  of  dependence  upon  an  uncle  at  once  generous 
and  ungracious,  partly  from  a  diffident  and  feeling  sense 
of  his  own  inadequate  pretensions  to  the  hand  of  ]\Iiss 
Cameron,  and  partly  from  the  prior  and  acknowledged 
claims  of  Lord  Vargrave,  he  had  accepted,  half  in  de- 
spair, the  appointment  offered  to  him,  he  still  found  it 
impossible  to  banish  that  image  which  had  been  the  first 
to  engrave  upon  ardent  and  fresh  affections  an  indelible 
impression.  He  secretly  chafed  at  the  thought  that  it 
was  to  a  fortunate  rival  that  he  owed  the  independence 
and  the  station  he  had  acquired,  and  resolved  to  seize 
an  early  opportimity  to  free  himself  from  obligations 
that  he  deeply  regretted  he  had  incurred.  At  length, 
he  learned  that  Lord  Vargrave  had  been  refused,  —  that 

26 


402  ALICE;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES. 

Evelyn  was  free;  and  within  a  few  days  from  that  in- 
telligence, the  admiral  was  seized  with  apoplexy,  and 
Legard  suddenly  found  himself  possessed,  if  not  of 
wealth,  at  least  of  a  competence  sufficient  to  redeem  his 
character  as  a  suitor  from  the  suspicion  attached  to  a 
fortune-hunter  and  adventurer.  Despite  the  new  pros- 
pects opened  to  him  by  the  death  of  his  uncle,  and 
despite  the  surly  caprice  which  had  mingled  with  and 
alloyed  the  old  admiral's  kindness,  Legard  was  greatly 
shocked  by  his  death ;  and  his  grateful  and  gentle  nature 
was  at  first  only  sensible  to  grief  for  the  loss  he  had 
sustained.  But  when,  at  last,  recovering  from  his 
sorrow,  he  saw  Evelyn  disengaged  and  free,  and  him- 
self in  a  position  honorably  to  contest  her  hand,  he 
could  not  resist  the  sweet  and  passionate  hopes  that 
broke  upon  him.  He  resigned,  as  we  have  seen,  his 
official  appointment,  and  set  out  for  Paris.  He  reached 
that  city  a  day  or  two  after  the  arrival  of  Lord  and  Lady 
Doltimore.  He  found  the  former,  who  had  not  for- 
gotten the  cautions  of  Vargrave,  at  first  cold  and  distant; 
but  partly  from  the  indolent  habit  of  submitting  to 
Legard 's  dictates  on  matters  of  taste,  partly  from  a 
liking  to  his  society,  and  principally  from  the  popular 
suffrages  of  fashion,  which  had  always  been  accorded 
to  Legard,  and  which  were  noways  diminished  by  the 
news  of  liis  accession  of  fortune.  Lord  Doltimore,  weak 
and  vain,  speedily  yielded  to  the  influences  of  his  old 
associate,  and  Legard  became  quietly  installed  as  the 
enfant  de  la  maison.  Caroline  was  not  in  this  instance 
a  very  faithful  ally  to  Vargrave's  views  and  policy.  In 
his  singular  liaison  with  Lady  Doltimore,  the  crafty 
manoeuvrer  had  committed  the  vulgar  fault  of  intriguers: 
he  had  over-refined  and  had  overreached  himself.  At  the 
commencement  of  their  strange  and  unprincipled  inti- 


ALICE;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  403 

macy,  Vargrave  had  had,  perhaps,  no  other  thought 
than  that  of  piquing  Evelyn,  consoling  liis  vanity, 
amusing  his  ennui,  and  indulging  rather  his  propensi- 
ties as  a  gallant  than  promoting  his  more  serious  ob- 
jects as  a  man  of  the  world.  l>y  degrees,  and  ei^pecially 
at  Knaresdean,  V^argrave  himself  became  deeply  entan- 
gled by  an  affair  that  he  had  never  before  contemplated 
as  more  important  than  a  passing  diversion :  instead  of 
securing  a  friend  to  assist  him  in  his  designs  on  Evelyn, 
he  suddenly  found  that  he  had  obtained  a  mistress  anx- 
ious for  his  love  and  jealous  of  his  homage.  With  his 
usual  promptitude  and  self-confidence,  he  was  led  at  once 
to  deliver  himself  of  all  the  ill  consequences  of  his 
rashness;  to  get  rid  of  Caroline  as  a  mistress,  and  to 
retain  her  as  a  tool,  by  marrying  her  to  Lord  Doltimore. 
By  the  great  ascendancy  which  his  character  acquired 
over  her,  and  by  her  own  worldly  ambition,  he  suc- 
ceeded in  inducing  her  to  sacrifice  all  romance  to  a 
union  that  gave  her  rank  and  fortune;  and  Vargrave 
then  rested  satisfied  that  the  clever  wife  would  not  only 
secure  him  a  permanent  power  over  the  political  in- 
fluence and  private  fortune  of  the  weak  husband,  but 
also  abet  his  designs  in  securing  an  alliance  equally 
desirable  for  himself.  Here  it  was  that  Vargrave 's 
incapacity  to  understand  the  refinements  and  scruples 
of  a  woman's  affection  and  nature,  however  guilty  the 
one,  and  however  worldly  the  other,  foiled  and  deceived 
him.  Caroline,  though  the  wife  of  another,  could  not 
contemplate  without  anguish  a  similar  bondage  for  her 
lover;  and  having  something  of  the  better  qualities  of 
her  sex  still  left  to  her,  she  recoiled  from  being  an 
accomplice  in  arts  that  were  to  drive  the  young,  in- 
experienced, and  guileless  creature  who  called  her 
"  friend  "  into  the  arms  of  a  man  who  openly  avowed 


404  ALICE;  OR,  THE   MYSTERIES. 

the  most  mercenary   motives,  and  who  took  gods  and 
men  to  witness   that  his   heart  was   sacred  to  another. 
Only  in  Vargrave's  presence  were  these  scruples  over- 
mastered; but  the  moment  he  was  gone  they  returned 
in  full  force.     She  had  yielded,  from  positive  fear,   to 
his  commands  that  she  should  convey  Evelyn  to  Paris; 
but  she  trembled  to  think  of  the  vague  hints  and  dark 
menaces  that  Vargrave  had  let   fall  as  to  ulterior  pro- 
ceedings, and  was   distracted  at  the  thought  of  being 
implicated  in  some  villanous  or  rash   design.      When, 
therefore,  the  man  whose  rivalry  Vargrave  most  feared 
was  almost  established  at  her  house,  she  made  but  a 
feeble   resistance:    she  thought  that  if  Legard    should 
become  a  welcome  and  accepted    suitor  before   Lumley 
arrived,  the  latter  would  be  forced  to  forego  whatever 
hopes  he  yet  cherished,  and  that  she  should  be  delivered 
from  a  dilemma  the  prospect  of  which  daunted  and  ap- 
palled her.       Added  to  this,  Caroline  was  now,  alas! 
sensible   that   a   fool  is   not  so   easily   governed:     her 
resistance  to  an  intimacy  with  Legard  would  have  been 
of  little  avail:    Doltimore,   in   these   matters,  had  an 
obstinate  will  of   his  own;   and  whatever   might    once 
have  been  Caroline's  influence  over  her  liege,  certain  it 
is  that  such  influence  had  been  greatly  impaired  of  late 
by  the  indulgence  of    a   temper  always  irritable,   and 
now  daily  more  soured  by  regret,  remorse,  contempt  for 
her  husband,    and   the  melancholy  discovery  that  for- 
tune,   youth,   beauty,    and    station    are    no    talismans 
against  misery. 

It  was  the  gayest  season  of  Paris;  and  to  escape 
from  herself,  Caroline  plunged  eagerly  into  the  vortex 
of  its  dissipations.  If  Doltimore's  heart  was  disap- 
pointed, his  vanity  was  pleased  at  the  admiration  Caro- 
line excited ;  and  he  himself  was  of  an  age  and  temper 


ALICE  ;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  405 

to  share  in  the  pursuits  and  amusements  of  his  wife. 
Into  these  gayeties,  new  to  their  fascination,  dazzled 
by  their  splendor,  the  young  Evelyn  entered  with  her 
hostess;  and  ever  by  her  side  was  the  unequalled  form 
of  Legard.  Each  of  them  in  the  bloom  of  youth,  each 
of  them  at  once  formed  to  please,  and  to  be  pleased  by 
that  fair  Armida  which  we  call  the  World,  there  was 
necessarily  a  certain  congeniality  in  their  views  and 
sentiments,  their  occupations  and  their  objects;  nor  was 
there,  in  all  that  brilliant  city,  one  more  calculated  to 
captivate  the  eye  and  fancy  than  George  Legard.  But 
still,  to  a  certain  degree,  diffident  and  fearful,  Legard 
never  yet  spoke  of  love ;  nor  did  their  intimacy  at  this 
time  ripen  to  that  point  in  which  Evelyn  could  have 
asked  herself  if  there  were  danger  in  the  society  of 
Legard,  or  serious  meaning  in  his  obvious  admiration. 
Whether  that  melancholy  to  which  Lady  Vargrave  had 
alluded  in  her  correspondence  with  Lumley  were  occa- 
sioned by  thoughts  connected  with  Maltravers,  or  un- 
acknowledged recollections  of  Legard,  it  remains  for 
the  acute  reader  himself  to  ascertain. 

The  Doltimores  had  been  about  three  weeks  in  Paris 

—  and  for  a  fortnight  of  that  time  Legard  had  been 
their  constant  guest,  and  half  the  inmate  of  their  hotel 

—  when,  on  that  night  which  has  been  commemorated 
in  our  last  book,  Maltravers  suddenly  once  more  beheld 
the  face  of  Evelyn,  and  in  the  same  hour  learned  that 
she  was  free.  He  quitted  Valerie's  box;  with  a  burning 
pulse  and  a  beating  heart,  joy  and  surprise  and  hope 
sparkling  in  his  eyes  and  brightening  his  whole  aspect, 
he  hastened  to  Evelyn's  side. 

It  was  at  this  time  Legard,  who  sat  behind  Miss 
Cameron,  unconscious  of  the  approach  of  a  rival,  hap- 
pened, by  one  of  those  chances  which  occur  in  con  versa- 


406  ALICE  ;    OK,   THE   MYSTEIUES. 

tion,  to  mention  the  name  of  Maltravers.  He  asked 
Evelyn  if  she  had  yet  met  him. 

"What!  is  he,  then,  in  Paris?"  asked  Evelyn, 
quickly.  "  I  heard,  indeed,"  she  continued,  "  that  he 
left  Burleigh  for  Paris,  but  imagined  he  had  gone  on 
to  Italy." 

"No,  he  is  still  here;  but  he  goes,  I  believe,  little 
into  the  society  Lady  Doltimore  chiefly  visits.  Is  he 
one  of  your  favorites.  Miss  Cameron?" 

There  was  a  slight  increase  of  color  in  Evelyn's 
beautiful  cheek  as  she  answered,  — 

"  Is  it  possible  not  to  admire  and  be  interested  in  one 
so  gifted  ?  " 

"  He  has  certainly  noble  and  fine  qualities,"  returned 
Legard;  "but  I  cannot  feel  at  ease  with  him:  a  cold- 
ness, a  hauteur,  a  measured  distance  of  manner,  seem 
to  forbid  even  esteem.  Yet  /ought  not  to  say  so,"  he 
added,  with  a  pang  of  self-reproach. 

"No,  indeed,  you  ought  not  to  say  so,"  said  Evelyn, 
shaking  her  head  with  a  pretty  affectation  of  anger;  "  for 
I  know  that  you  pretend  to  like  what  I  like,  and  admire 
•what  I  admire ;  and  I  am  an  enthusiast  in  all  that  relates 
to  Mr.  Maltravers." 

"  I  know  that  I  would  wish  to  see  all  things  in  life 
through  Miss  Cameron's  eyes,"  whispered  Legard,  softly; 
and  this  was  the  most  meaning  speech  he  had  ever  yet 
made. 

Evelyn  turned  away,  and  seemed  absorbed  in  the 
opera;  and  at  that  instant  the  door  of  the  box  opened, 
and  ]\Ialtravers  entered. 

In  her  open,  undisguised,  youthful  delight  at  seeing 
him  again,  Maltravers  felt,  indeed,  "  as  if  Paradise  were 
opened  in  her  face."  In  his  own  agitated  emotions,  he 
scarcely  noticed  that  Legard  had  risen  and  resigned  his 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  407 

seat  to  him;  he  availed  himself  of  the  civility,  greeted 
his  old  acquaintance  with  a  smile  and  bow,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  he  was  in  deep  converse  with  Evelyn. 

Never  had  he  so  successfully  exerted  the  singular,  the 
master  fascination  that  he  could  command  at  will,  —  the 
more  powerful,  from  its  contrast  to  his  ordinary  cold- 
ness; in  the  very  expression  of  his  eyes,  the  very  tone 
of  his  voice,  there  was  that  in  Maltravers,  seen  at  his 
happier  moments,  which  irresistibly  interested  and 
absorbed  your  attention:  he  could  make  you  forget 
everything  but  himself  and  the  rich,  easy,  yet  earnest 
eloquence  which  gave  color  to  his  language  and  melody 
to  his  voice.  In  that  hour  of  renewed  intercourse  with 
one  who  had  at  first  awakened,  if  not  her  heart,  at  least 
her  imagination  and  her  deeper  thoughts,  certain  it  is 
that  even  Legard  was  not  missed.  As  she  smiled  and 
listened,  Evelyn  dreamed  not  of  the  anguish  she  in- 
flicted. Leaning  against  the  back  of  the  box,  Logard 
surveyed  the  absorbed  attention  of  Evelyn,  the  adoring 
eyes  of  Maltravers,  with  that  utter  and  crushing  wretch- 
edness which  no  passion  but  jealousy,  and  that  only 
while  it  is  yet  a  virgin  agony,  can  bestow.  He  had 
never  before  even  dreamed  of  rivalry  in  such  a  quarter; 
but  there  was  that  ineffable  instinct  which  lovers  have, 
and  which  so  seldom  errs,  that  told  him  at  once  that  in 
Maltravers  was  the  greatest  obstacle  and  peril  his  pas- 
sion could  encounter.  He  waited  in  hopes  that  Evelyn 
would  take  the  occasion  to  turn  to  him  at  least,  when 
the  fourth  act  closed.  She  did  not;  and  unable  to 
constrain  his  emotions,  and  reply  to  the  small  talk  of 
Lord  Doltimore,  he  abruptly  quitted  the  box. 

When  the  opera  was  over,  Maltravers  offered  his  arm 
to  Evelyn;  she  accepted  it,  and  then  she  looked  round 
for  Legard.     He  was  gone. 


BOOK  VIII. 


'fi  Zev,  t{  /xov  SpaffaL  fiffiovKevaai  wept ; 

Soph.:   (Ed.  Tj/r.^  738. 
O  Fate !    0  Heaven  I  —  what  have  ye  then  decreed  ? 

"T/3pi?        .... 
'AKporarov  iiffava^acr'  air Srofxov 
'Cipovaiv  viv  (Is  dvdyKav. 

Ibid.,  874, 

Insolent  pride        .... 

The  topmost  crag  of  the  great  precipice 

Surmounts  —  to  rush  to  ruin. 


BOOK  VIII. 


CHAPTER  I. 

She  is  young,  wise,  fair, 
In  these  to  Nature  she  's  immediate  heir. 

Honors  best  thrive 
When  rather  from  our  acts  we  them  derive 
Than  our  foregoers ! 

All 's  Well  that  Ends  Well. 

letter  from  ernest  maltravers  to  the  hon.  frederick 

Cleveland- 
Evelyn  is  free  :  she  is  in  Paris  ;  I  have  seen  her,  —  1  see  her 
daily. 

How  true  it  is  that  we  cannot  make  a  philosoph}'  of  indif- 
ference '  The  affections  are  stronger  than  all  our  reasonings. 
We  must  take  them  into  our  alUance,  or  they  will  destroy  all 
our  theories  of  selt-governinent.  Such  fools  of  fate  are  we, 
passing  from  system  to  system,  from  scheme  to  scheme,  vainly 
seeking  to  shut  out  passion  and  sorrow,  forgetting  that  they 
are  bom  within  us,  and  return  to  the  soul  as  the  seasons 
to  the  earth  I  Yet,  years,  many  years  ago,  when  I  first 
looked  gravely  into  my  own  nature  and  being  here  ;  when  I 
first  awakened  to  the  dignity  and  solemn  responsibilities  of 
human  life,  —  I  had  resolved  to  curb  and  tame  myself  into  a 
thing  of  rule  and  measure.  Bearing  within  me  the  wound 
scarred  over  but  never  healed. — the  con.sciousness  of  wrong 
to  the  heart  that  had  leaned  upon  me,  —  haunted  by  the  mourn- 
ful memory  of  my  lu-st  Alice,  I  shuddered  at  new  affections 
bequeathing   new  griefs     Wrapped  in  a  haughty  egotism,  I 


412  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

wished  not  to  extend  my  empire  over  a  wider  circuit  than  my 
own  intellect  and  passions,  I  turned  from  the  trader-covet- 
ousness  of  bliss,  that  would  freight  the  wealth  of  life  upon 
barks  exposed  to  every  wind  upon  the  seas  of  fate  ;  I  was 
contented  with  the  hope  to  pass  life  alone,  honored,  though 
unloved.  Slowly  and  reluctantly  I  yielded  to  the  fascinations 
of  Florence  Lascelles.  The  hour  that  sealed  the  compact  be- 
tween us  was  one  of  regret  and  alarm.  In  vain  I  sought  to 
deceive  myself ;  I  felt  that  I  did  not  love.  And  then  I 
imagined  that  love  was  no  longer  in  my  nature,  —  that  I  had 
exhausted  its  treasures  before  my  time,  and  left  my  heart  a 
bankrupt.  Not  till  the  last,  —  not  till  that  glorious  soul 
broke  out  in  all  its  brightness,  the  nearer  it  approached  the 
source  to  which  it  has  returned,  —  did  I  feel  of  what  tender- 
ness she  was  worthy  and  I  was  capable.  She  died,  and  the 
world  was  darkened  !  Energy,  ambition,  my  former  aims  and 
objects,  —  were  all  sacrificed  at  her  tomb.  But  amidst  ruins 
and  through  the  darkness,  my  soul  yet  supported  me ;  I  could 
no  longer  hope,  but  I  could  endure.  I  was  resolved  that  I 
would  not  be  subdued,  and  that  the  world  should  not  hear  me 
groan.  Amidst  strange  and  far-distant  scenes,  amidst  hordes 
to  whom  my  very  language  was  unknown,  in  wastes  and 
forests  which  the  step  of  civilized  man,  with  his  sorrows  and 
his  dreams,  had  never  trodden,  I  wrestled  with  my  soul,  as 
the  patriarch  of  old  wrestled  with  the  angel;  and  the  angel 
was  at  last  the  victor  !  You  do  not  mistake  me,  —  you  know 
that  it  was  not  the  death  of  Florence  alone  that  worked  in  me 
that  awful  revolution,  but  with  that  death  the  last  glory  fled 
from  the  face  of  things,  that  liad  seemed  to  me  beautiful  of  old. 
Hers  was  a  love  that  accompanied  and  dignified  the  schemes 
and  aspirations  of  manhood,  — a  love  that  was  an  incarnation 
of  amVjition  itself  ;  and  all  the  evils  and  disappointments  that 
belong  to  ambition  seemed  to  crowd  around  my  heart  like 
vultures  to  a  feast,  allured  and  invited  by  the  dead.  But  this 
at  length  was  over ;  the  barbarous  state  restored  me  to  the 
civilized.  I  returned  to  my  equals,  prepared  no  more  to  be 
an  actor  in  the  strife,  but  a  calm  spectator  of  the  turbulent 
arena.     I  once  more  laid  my  head  beneath  the  roof  of  my 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  413 

fathers ;  and  if  without  any  clear  and  definite  object,  I  at 
least  hoped  to  find  amidst  "  my  old  hereditary  trees "  the 
charm  of  contemplation  and  repose.  And  scarce  —  in  the  first 
hours  of  my  arrival  —  had  I  indulged  that  dream,  when  a  fair 
face,  a  sweet  voice,  that  had  once  before  left  deep  and  un- 
obliterated  impressions  on  my  heart,  scattered  all  my  philoso- 
phy to  the  winds.  I  saw  Evelyn  !  and  if  ever  there  was  love 
at  first  sight,  it  was  that  which  I  felt  for  her  :  I  lived  in  her 
presence,  and  forgot  the  future.  Or,  rather,  I  was  with  the 
past,  —  iu  the  bowers  of  my  spring-tide  of  life  and  hope. 
It  was  an  after- birth  of  youth,  —  my  love  for  that  young 
heart. 

It  is,  indeed,  only  in  maturity  that  we  know  how  lovely 
were  our  earliest  years  I  What  depth  of  wisdom  in  the  old 
Greek  myth,  that  allotted  Hebe  as  the  prize  to  the  god  who 
had  been  the  Arch-Laborer  of  life  ;  and  whom  the  satiety  of 
all  that  results  from  experience  had  made  enamoured  of  all  that 
belongs  to  the  hopeful  and  the  new  1 

This  enchanting  child,  this  delightful  Evelyn,  this  ray  of 
undreamed-of  sunshine,  —  smiled  away  all  my  palaces  of  ice. 
I  loved,  Cleveland,  I  loved  more  ardentlj%  more  passionately, 
more  wildly  than  ever  I  did  of  old  I  But  suddenly  I  learned 
that  she  was  affianced  to  another,  and  felt  that  it  was  not  for 
me  to  question,  to  seek  the  annulment  of  the  bond.  I  had 
been  unworthy  to  love  Evelyn,  if  I  had  not  loved  honor  more  ! 
I  fled  from  her  presence,  honestly  and  resolutely  ;  I  sought  to 
conquer  a  forbidden  passion  ;  I  believed  that  I  had  not  won 
affection  in  return ;  I  believed,  from  certain  expressions  that 
I  overheard  Evelyn  utter  to  another,  that  her  heart  as  well  as 
her  hand  was-  given  to  Vargrave.  I  came  hither  ;  you  know 
how  sternly  and  resolutely  I  strove  to  eradicate  a  weakness 
that  seemed  without  even  the  justification  of  hope.  If  I  suf- 
fered, I  betrayed  it  not.  Suddenly  Evelyn  appeared  again 
before  me;  and  suddenly  I  learned  that  she  was  free!  Oh, 
the  rapture  of  that  moment  !  Could  you  have  seen  her  bright 
face,  her  enchanting  smile,  when  we  met  again  !  Her  ingenu- 
ous innocence  did  not  conceal  her  gladness  at  seeing  me. 
What  hopes  broke  upon  me  I     Despite  the  difference  of  our 


414  ALICE  ;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

years,  I  think  she  loves  me ;  that  in  that  love  I  am  about  at 
last  to  learn  what  blessings  there  are  in  life  ! 

Evelyn  has  the  simplicity,  the  tenderness  of  Alice,  with  the 
refinement  and  culture  of  Florence  herself  ;  not  the  genius, 
not  the  daring  spirit,  not  the  almost  fearful  brilliancy  of  that 
ill-fated  being,  —  but  with  a  taste  as  true  to  the  beautiful,  with 
a  soul  as  sensitive  to  the  sublime.  In  Evelyn's  presence  I 
feel  a  sense  of  peace,  of  security,  of  home.  Happy,  thrice 
happy,  he  who  will  take  her  to  his  breast !  Of  late  she  has 
assumed  a  new  charm  in  my  eyes:  a  certain  pensiveness  and 
abstraction  have  succeeded  to  her  wonted  gayety.  Ah  I  love 
is  pensive  ;  is  it  not,  Cleveland  1  How  often  I  ask  myself 
that  question  !  And  yet,  amidst  all  my  hopes,  there  are  hours 
when  I  tremble  and  despond.  How  can  that  innocent  and 
joyous  spirit  sympathize  with  all  that  mine  has  endured  and 
known  ?  How,  even  though  her  imagination  be  dazzled  by 
some  prestige  around  my  name,  —  how  can  I  believe  that  I  have 
awakened  her  heait  to  that  deep  and  real  love  of  which  it  is 
capable,  and  which  youth  excites  in  youth  ?  When  we  meet 
at  her  home,  or  amidst  the  quiet  yet  brilliant  society  which  is 
gathered  round  Madame  de  Ventadour,  or  the  De  Montaignes, 
with  whom  she  is  an  especial  favorite  ;  when  we  converse  ; 
when  I  sit  by  her,  and  her  soft  eyes  meet  mine, —  I  feel  not 
the  disparity  of  years  ;  my  heart  speaks  to  her,  and  that  is 
youthful  still.  But  in  the  more  gay  and  crowded  haunts  to 
which  her  presence  allures  me,  when  I  see  that  fairy  form  sur- 
rounded by  those  who  have  not  outlived  the  pleasures  that  so 
naturally  dazzle  and  captivate  her,  — then,  indeed,  I  feel  that 
my  tastes,  my  habits,  my  pursuits,  belong  to  another  season  of 
life,  and  ask  myself  anxiously,  if  my  nature  and  my  years  are 
those  that  can  make  her  happy  ?  Then,  indeed,  I  recognize 
the  wide  interval  that  time  and  trial  place  between  one  whom 
the  world  has  wearied,  and  one  for  whom  the  world  is  new. 
If  she  should  discover  hereafter  that  youth  should  love  only 
youth,  my  bitterest  anguish  would  be  that  of  remorse.  I 
know  how  deeply  I  love,  by  knowing  how  immeasurably  dearer 
her  happine.ss  is  than  my  own  !  I  will  wait,  then,  yet  awhile; 
I  will  examine,  I  will  watch  well  that  I  do  not  deceive  myself. 


ALICE;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  415 

As  yet,  I  think  that  I  have  no  rivals  whom  I  need  fear  :  sur- 
rounded as  she  is  by  the  youngest  and  the  gayest,  she  still 
turns  with  evident  pleasure  to  me,  whom  she  calls  her  friend. 
She  will  forego  even  the  amusements  she  most  loves  for  society 
in  which  we  can  converse  more  at  ease.  You  remember,  for 
instance,  young  Legard  1  —  he  is  here,  and  before  I  met 
Evelyn,  was  much  at  Lady  Doltimore's  house.  I  cannot  be 
blind  to  his  superior  advantages  of  youth  and  person,  and 
there  is  something  striking  and  prepossessing  in  the  gentle  yet 
manly  frankness  of  his  manner  ;  and  yet  no  fear  of  his  rival- 
ship  ever  haunts  me.  True,  that  of  late  he  has  been  little  in 
Evelyn's  society  ;  nor  do  I  think,  in  the  frivolity  of  his  pur- 
suits, he  can  have  educated  his  mind  to  appreciate  Evelyn,  or 
be  possessed  of  those  qualities  which  would  render  him  worthy 
of  her.  But  there  is  something  good  in  the  young  man,  de- 
spite his  foibles,  —  something  that  wins  upon  me  ;  and  you 
will  smile  to  learn  that  he  has  even  surprised  from  me  — 
usually  so  reserved  on  such  matters  —  the  confession  of  my 
attachment  and  hopes.  Evelyn  often  talks  to  me  of  her 
mother,  and  describes  her  in  colors  so  glowing  that  I  feel  the 
greatest  interest  in  one  who  has  helped  to  form  so  beautiful 
and  pure  a  mind.  Can  you  learn  who  Lady  Vargrave  was  ? 
There  is  evidently  some  mystery  thrown  over  her  birth  and 
connections  ;  and,  from  what  I  can  hear,  this  arises  from  their 
lowliness.  You  know  that  though  I  have  been  accused  of 
family  pride,  it  is  a  pride  of  a  peculiar  sort.  I  am  proud,  not 
of  the  length  of  a  mouldering  pedigree,  but  of  some  historical 
quarterings  in  mj'  escutcheon,  — of  some  blood  of  scholars  and 
of  heroes  that  rolls  in  my  veins  ;  it  is  the  same  kind  of  pride 
that  an  Englishman  may  feel  in  belonging  to  a  country  that 
has  produced  Shakespeare  and  Bacon.  I  have  never,  I  hope, 
felt  the  vulgar  pride  that  disdains  want  of  birth  in  others;  and 
I  care  not  three  straws  whether  my  friend  or  my  wife  be  de- 
scended from  a  king  or  a  peasant.  It  is  myself,  and  not  my 
connections,  who  alone  can  disgrace  my  lineage  ;  therefore, 
however  humble  Lady  Vargrave's  parentage,  do  not  scruple 
to  inform  me,  should  you  learn  any  intelligence  that  bears 
upon  it. 


416  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

I  had  a  conversation  last  night  with  Evelyn  that  delighted 
me.  By  some  accident  we  spoke  of  Lord  Vargrave  ;  and  she 
told  me,  with  an  enchanting  candor,  of  the  position  in  which 
she  stood  with  him,  and  the  conscientious  and  noble  scruples 
she  felt  as  to  the  enjoyment  of  a  fortune  which  her  benefactor 
and  stepfather  had  evidently  intended  to  be  shared  with  his 
nearest  relative.  In  these  scruples  I  cordially  concurred  ;  and 
if  I  marry  Evelyn,  my  first  care  will  be  to  carry  them  into 
effect,  by  securing  to  Vargrave,  as  far  as  the  law  may  permit, 
the  larger  part  of  the  income,  —  I  should  like  to  say  all,  —  at 
least  till  Evelyn's  children  would  have  the  right  to  claim  it  : 
a  right  not  to  be  enforced  during  her  own,  and,  therefore, 
probably  not  during  Vargrave's  life.  I  own  that  this  would 
lie  no  sacrifice,  for  I  am  proud  enough  to  recoil  from  the 
thought  of  being  indebted  for  fortune  to  the  woman  I  love. 
It  was  that  kind  of  pride  which  gave  coldness  and  constraint 
to  my  regard  for  Florence ;  and  for  the  rest,  my  own  property 
(much  increased  by  the  simplicity  of  my  habits  of  life  for 
the  last  few  years)  will  suffice  for  all  Evelyn  or  myself  could 
require.  Ah,  madman  that  I  am !  I  calculate  already  on 
marriage,  even  while  I  have  so  much  cause  for  anxiety  as  to 
love.  But  my  heart  beats  ;  my  heart  has  grown  a  dial,  that 
keeps  the  account  of  time  ;  by  its  movements  I  calculate  the 
moments,  —  in  an  hour  I  shall  see  her  ! 

Oh,  never,  never,  in  my  wildest  and  earliest  visions,  could 
I  have  fancied  that  I  should  love  as  I  love  now  !  Adieu,  my 
oldest  and  kindest  friend  !  If  I  am  happy  at  last,  it  will 
be  something  to  feel  that  at  last  I  shall  have  satisfied  your 
expectations  of  my  youth. 

Affectionately  yours, 

E.  Maltravers. 
Rub  de ,  Paris,  January  — ,  18 — . 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  417 


CHAPTER   II. 

In  her  youth 
There  is  a  prone  and  speechless  dialect  — 
Such  as  moves  men. 

Measure  for  Measure. 
Abbess.     Haply  in  private  — 
Adriana.     And  in  assemblies  too. 

Comedy  of  Errors. 

It  was  true,  as  Maltravers  had  stated,  that  Legard  had 
of  late  been  little  at  Lady  Doltimore's,  or  in  the  same 
society  as  Evelyn.  With  the  vehemence  of  an  ardent 
and  passionate  nature,  he  yielded  to  the  jealous  rage 
and  grief  that  devoured  him.  He  saw  too  clearly,  and 
from  the  first,  that  Maltravers  adored  Evelyn;  and  in 
her  familiar  kindness  of  manner  towards  him,  in  the 
unlimited  veneration  in  which  she  appeared  to  hold  his 
gifts  and  qualities,  he  thought  that  that  love  might  be- 
come reciprocal.  He  became  gloomy  and  almost  morose ; 
he  shunned  Evelyn, —  he  forbore  to  enter  into  the  lists 
against  his  rival.  Perhaps  the  intellectual  superiority  of 
Maltravers,  the  extraordinary  conversational  brilliancy 
that  he  could  display  when  he  pleased,  the  commanding 
dignity  of  his  manners,  even  the  matured  authority  of 
his  reputation  and  years,  might  have  served  to  awe  the 
hopes,  as  well  as  to  wound  the  vanity  of  a  man  accus- 
tomed himself  to  be  the  oracle  of  a  circle.  These  might 
have  strongly  influenced  Legard  in  withdrawing  himself 
from  Evelyn's  society ;  but  there  was  one  circumstance, 
connected  with  motives  much  more  generous,  that  niauily 
determined  his  conduct.     It  happened  that  Maltravers, 

27 


418  ALICE  ;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES. 

shortly  after  his  first  interview  with  Evelyn,  was  riding 
alone  one  day,  in  the  more  sequestered  part  of  the  Bois 
de  Boulogne,  when  he  encountered  Legard,  also  alone, 
and  on  horseback.  The  latter,  on  succeeding  to  his 
uncle's  fortune,  had  taken  care  to  repay  his  debt  to 
IMaltravers ;  he  had  done  so  in  a  short  but  feeling  and 
grateful  letter,  which  had  been  forwarded  to  Maltravers 
at  Paris,  and  which  pleased  and  touched  him.  Since 
that  time  he  had  taken  a  liking  to  the  young  man ;  and 
now,  meeting  him  at  Paris,  he  sought,  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent, Legard's  more  intimate  acquaintance.  Maltravers 
was  in  that  happy  mood  when  we  are  inclined  to  be 
friends  with  all  men.  It  is  true,  however,  that  though 
unknown  to  himself,  that  pride  of  bearing  which  often 
gave  to  the  very  virtues  of  Maltravers  an  unamiable 
aspect,  occasionally  irritated  one  who  felt  he  had  in- 
curred to  him  an  obligation  of  honor  and  of  life  never  to 
be  effaced:  it  made  the  sense  of  this  obligation  more 
intolerable  to  Legard;  it  made  him  more  desirous  to 
acquit  himself  of  the  charge.  But  on  this  day  there 
was  so  much  cordiality  in  the  greeting  of  Maltravers, 
and  he  pressed  Legard  in  so  friendly  a  manner  to  join 
him  in  his  ride,  that  the  young  man's  heart  was  soft- 
ened, and  they  rode  together,  conversing  familiarly  on 
such  topics  as  were  in  common  between  them.  At  last 
the  conversation  fell  on  Lord  and  Lady  Doltimore ;  and 
thence  Maltravers,  whose  soul  was  full  of  one  thought, 
turned  it  indirectly  towards  Evelyn. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  Lady  Vargrave  ?  " 

"  Never, "  replied  Legard,  looking  another  way  ;  "  but 
Lady  Doltimore  says  she  is  as  beautiful  as  Evelyn  her- 
self, if  that  be  possilJe,  and  still  so  young  in  form  and 
countenance  that  she  looks  rather  like  her  sister  than 
her  mother." 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  419 

"  How  I  should  like  to  know  her!  "  said  Maltravers, 
with  a  sudden  energy. 

Legard  changed  the  subject.  He  spoke  of  the  Car- 
nival, of  balls,  of  masquerades,  of  operas,  of  reigning 
beauties. 

"  Ah !  "  said  Maltravers,  with  a  half-sigh,  "  yours  is 
tlie  age  for  those  dazzling  pleasures ;  to  me  they  are  '  the 
twice-told  tale.'  " 

Maltravers  meant  it  not,  but  this  remark  chafed  Le- 
gard. He  thought  it  conveyed  a  sarcasm  on  the  child- 
ishness of  his  own  mind,  or  the  levity  of  his  pursuits; 
his  color  mounted  as  he  replied,  — 

"  It  is  not,  I  fear,  the  slight  difference  of  years  between 
us,  it  is  the  difference  of  intellect  you  would  insinuate ; 
but  you  should  remember  all  men  have  not  your  re- 
sources ;  all  men  cannot  pretend  to  genius !  " 

"  My  dear  Legard, "  said  Maltravers,  kindly,  "  do  not 
fancy  that  I  could  have  designed  any  insinuation  half 
so  presumptuous  and  impertinent.  Believe  me,  I  envy 
you,  sincerely  and  sadly,  all  those  faculties  of  enjoyment 
which  I  have  worn  away.  Oh,  how  I  envy  you!  for 
were  they  still  mine,  then  —  then,  indeed,  I  might  hope 
to  mould  myself  into  greater  congeniality  with  the  beau- 
tiful and  the  young !  " 

Maltravers  paused  a  moment,  and  resumed,  with  a 
grave  smile :  "  I  trust,  Legard,  that  you  will  be  wiser 
than  I  have  been ;  that  you  will  gather  your  roses  while 
it  is  yet  May ;  and  that  you  will  not  live  to  thirty-six, 
pining  for  happiness  and  home,  a  disappointed  and  deso- 
late man;  till,  when  your  ideal  is  at  last  foimd,  you 
shrink  back  appalled,  to  discover  that  you  have  lost  none 
of  the  tendencies  to  love,  but  many  of  the  graces  by 
which  love  is  to  be  allured." 

There  was   so  much   serious  and   earnest   feeling   in 


420  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

these  words  that  they  went  home  at  once  to  Legard's 
sympathies.  He  felt  irresistibly  impelled  to  learn  the 
worst. 

"  Maltravers, "  said  he,  in  a  hurried  tone,  "  it  would 
be  an  idle  compliment  to  say  that  you  are  not  likely  to 
love  in  vain;  perhaps  it  is  indelicate  in  me  to  apply  a 
general  remark ;  and  yet  —  yet  I  cannot  but  fancy  that 
I  have  discovered  your  secret,  and  that  you  are  not  in- 
sensible to  the  charms  of  Miss  Cameron." 

"  Legard, "  said  Maltravers,  and  so  strong  was  his  fer- 
vent attachment  to  Evelyn  that  it  swept  away  all  his 
natural  coldness  and  reserve,  "  I  tell  you  plainly  and 
frankly  that  in  ray  love  for  Evelyn  Cameron  lie  the  last 
hopes  I  have  in  life.  I  have  no  thought,  no  ambition, 
no  sentiment,  that  is  not  vowed  to  her.  If  my  love 
should  be  unreturned,  I  may  strive  to  endure  the  blow, 
I  may  mix  witli  the  world,  I  may  seem  to  occupy  myself 
in  the  aims  of  others,  —  but  my  heart  will  be  broken ! 
Let  us  talk  of  this  no  more;  you  have  surprised  my 
secret,  though  it  must  have  betrayed  itself.  Learn  from 
me  liow  preternaturally  strong  —  how  generally  fatal  — 
is  love  deferred  to  that  day  when,  in  the  stern  growth  of 
all  the  feelings,  love  writes  itself  on  granite. " 

Maltravers,  as  if  impatient  of  his  own  weakness,  put 
spurs  to  his  horse,  and  they  rode  on  rapidly  for  some 
time  without  speaking. 

That  silence  was  employed  by  Legard  in  meditating 
over  all  he  had  heard  and  witnessed,  —  in  recalling  all 
that  he  owed  to  Maltravers ;  and  before  that  silence  was 
broken,  the  young  man  nobly  resolved  not  even  to  at- 
tempt, not  even  to  hope,  a  rivalry  with  Maltravers;  to 
forego  all  the  expectations  he  had  so  fondly  nursed;  to 
absent  himself  from  the  company  of  Evelyn;  to  requite 
faithfully  and  firmly  that  act  of  generosity  to  which  he 


ALICE;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  421 

owed  the  preservation  of  his  life,  the  redemption  of  his 
honor. 

Agreeably  to  this  determination,  he  abstained  from 
visituig  those  haunts  in  which  Evelyn  shone;  and  if 
accident  brought  them  together,  his  maimer  was  em- 
barrassed and  abrupt.  She  wondered,  —  at  last,  perhaps, 
she  resented;  it  may  be  that  she  grieved,  for  certain  it 
is  that  Maltravers  was  right  in  thinking  that  her  manner 
had  lost  the  gayety  that  distinguished  it  at  Merton  Rec- 
tory. But  still  it  may  be  doubted  whether  Evelyn  had 
seen  enough  of  Legard,  and  whether  her  fancy  and  ro- 
mance were  still  sufficiently  free  from  the  magical  influ- 
ences of  the  genius  that  called  them  forth  in  the  eloquent 
homage  of  Maltravers,  to  trace,  herself,  to  any  causes 
connected  with  her  younger  lover,  the  listless  melancholy 
that  crept  over  her.  In  very  young  women,  —  new  alike 
to  the  world  and  the  knowledge  of  themselves,  —  many 
vague  and  undefined  feelings  herald  the  dawn  of  love: 
shade  after  shade,  and  light  upon  light,  succeeds  before 
the  sun  breaks  forth,  and  the  earth  awakens  to  his 
presence. 

It  was  one  evening  that  Legard  had  suffered  himself 

to    be    led   into  a  party  at  the  ambassador's,   and 

there,  as  he  stood  by  the  door,  he  saw  at  a  little  dis- 
tance Maltravers  conversing  with  Evelyn.  Again  he 
writhed  beneath  the  tortures  of  his  jealous  anguish ;  and 
there,  as  he  gazed  and  suffered,  he  resolved  (as  Maltravers 
had  done  before  him)  to  fly  from  the  place  that  had  a 
little  while  ago  seemed  to  him  Elysium.  He  would  quit 
Paris;  he  would  travel;  he  would  not  see  Evelyn  again 
tiU  the  irrevocable  barrier  was  passed,  and  she  Avas  the 
wife  of  Maltravers.  In  the  first  heat  of  this  determina- 
tion, he  turned  towards  some  young  men  standing  near 
him.  one   of   whom   was   about   to   visit  Vienna.      He 


422  ALICE;   OR,   THE   xMYSTERIES. 

gayly  proposed  to  join  him,  —  a  proposal  readily  accepted, 
—  and  began  conversing  on  the  journey,  the  city,  its  splen- 
did and  proud  society,  with  all  that  cruel  exhilaration 
which  the  forced  spirits  of  a  stricken  heart  can  alone 
display,  when  Evelyn  (whose  conference  with  Maltravers 
was  ended)  passed  close  by  him.  She  was  leaning  on 
Lady  Doltimore's  arm,  and  the  admiring  murmur  of  his 
companions  caused  Legard  to  turn  suddenly  round. 

"  You   are   not    dancing    to-night.    Colonel   Legard, " 

said  Caroline,  glancing  towards  Evelyn,     "  The  more  the 

season  for  balls  advances,  the  more  indolent  you  become." 

Legard  muttered  a  confused  reply,  one  half  of  which 

seemed  petulant,  while  the  other  half  was  inaudible. 

"Not  so  indolent  as  you  suppose,"  said  his  friend. 
"  Legard  meditates  an  excursion  sufficient,  I  hope,  to 
redeem  his  character  in  your  eyes.  It  is  a  long  journey, 
and,  what  is  worse,  a  very  cold  journey,  to  Vienna. " 

"  Vienna !  —  do  you  think  of  going  to  Vienna  ?  "  cried 
Caroline. 

"  Yes, "  said  Legard.  "  I  hate  Paris ;  any  place  better 
than  this  odious  city !  "  and  he  moved  away. 

Evelyn's  eyes  followed  him  sadly  and  gravely.  She 
remained  by  Lady  Doltimore's  side,  abstracted  and  silent, 
for  several  minutes. 

Meanwhile  Caroline,  turning  to  Lord  Devonport  (the 
friend  who  had  proposed  the  Viennese  excursion),  said, 
"  It  is  cruel  in  you  to  go  to  Vienna;  it  is  doubly  cruel 
to  rob  Lord  Doltimore  of  his  best  friend,  and  Paris  of  its 
best  waltzer. " 

"  Oh,  it  is  a  voluntary  oflFer  of  Legard's,  Lady  Dolti- 
more ;  believe  me,  I  have  used  no  persuasive  arts.  But 
the  fact  is,  that  we  have  been  talking  of  a  fair  widow, 
the  beauty  of  Austria,  and  as  proud  and  as  unassailable 
as  Ehrenbreitstein  itself.     Legard's  vanity  is  piqued,  and 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  423 

SO  —  as  a  professed  lady-killer  —  he  intends  to  see  what 
can  be  effected  by  the  handsomest  Englishman  of  his 
time." 

Caroline  laughed;  and  new  claimants  on  her  notice 
succeeded  to  Lord  Devonport.  It  was  not  till  the  ladies 
were  waiting  their  carriage  in  the  shawl-room  that  Lady 
Doltimore  noticed  the  paleness  and  thoughtful  brow  of 
Evelyn. 

"  Are  you  fatigued  or  unwell,  dear  ?  "  she  said. 

"  No, "  answered  Evelyn,  forcing  a  smile ;  and  at 
that  moment  they  were  joined  by  Maltravers,  with  the 
intelligence  that  it  would  be  some  minutes  before  the 
carriage  could  draw  up.  Caroline  amused  herself  in  the 
interval  by  shrewd  criticisms  on  the  dresses  and  char- 
acters of  her  various  friends.  Caroline  had  grown  an 
amazing  prude  in  her  judgment  of  others ! 

"  What  a  turban  !  —  prudent  for  Mrs.  A to  wear ; 

bright   red:  it  puts  out  her  face,   as  the  sun   puts   out 

the  fire.     Mr.  Maltravers,   do  observe  Lady  B with 

that  very  young  gentleman.  After  all  her  experience 
in  angling,  it  is  odd  that  she  should  still  only  throw  in 
for  small  fish.     Pray,  why  is  the  marriage  between  Lady 

C D and   Mr.   E broken   off?     Is   it   true 

that  he  is  so  much  in  debt,  and  is  so  very,  very  profli- 
gate?    They  say  she  is  heart-broken." 

"  Really,   Lady  Doltimore, "  said  Maltravers,   smiling, 

"  I  am  but  a  bad  scandal-monger.     But  poor  F is 

not,  I  believe,  much  worse  than  others.  How  do  we 
know  whose  fault  it  is  when  a  marriage  is  broken  off? 
Lady  C D heart-broken!  —  what  an  idea!  Now- 
adays there  is  never  any  affection  in  compacts  of  that 
sort ;  and  the  chain  that  binds  the  frivolous  nature  is  but 
a  gossamer  thread.  Fine  gentlemen  and  fine  ladies !  their 
loves  and  their  marriages  — 


424  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

'  May  flourish  and  may  fade ; 
A  breath  may  make  them,  as  a  breath  has  made.' 

Never  believe  that  a  heart  long  accustomed  to  beat 
only  in  good  society  can  be  broken,  —  it  is  rarely  even 
touched!  " 

Evelyn  listened  attentively,  and  seemed  struck.  She 
sighed,  and  said  in  a  very  low  voice,  as  to  herself,  "  It  is 
true ;  how  could  I  think  otherwise  ?  " 

For  the  next  few  days  Evelyn  was  unwell,  and  did 
not  quit  her  room.  Maltravers  was  in  despair.  The 
flowers,  the  books,  the  music,  he  sent,  his  anxious  in- 
quiries, his  earnest  and  respectful  notes,  —  touched  with 
that  ineffable  charm  which  heart  and  intellect  breathe 
into  the  most  trifling  coinage  from  their  mint,  —  all 
affected  Evelyn  sensibly:  perhaps  she  contrasted  them 
with  Legard's  indifference  and  apparent  caprice ;  perhaps 
in  that  contrast  Maltravers  gained  more  than  by  aJi  his 
brilliant  qualities.  Meanwhile,  Avithout  visit,  without 
message,  without  farewell,  —  unconscious,  it  is  true,  of 
Evelyn's  illness,  —  Legard  departed  for  Viennaj 


ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  425 


CHAPTER  III. 

A  pleasing  laud 

Of  dreaiiis  that  wave  before  the  half-shut  eye. 

And  of  gay  castles  in  the  clouds  that  pass, 
Forever  Hashing  round  a  summer  sky. 

Thomson. 

Daily,  hourly,  increased  the  influence  of  Evelyn  over 
Maltravers.  Oh,  what  a  dupe  is  a  man's  pride;  what 
a  fool  his  wisdom!  That  a  girl,  a  mere  child,  one 
who  scarce  knew  her  own  heart,  beautiful  as  it  was, 
whose  deeper  feelings  still  lay  coiled  up  in  their  sweet 
buds, — that  she  should  thus  master  this  proud,  wise 
man!  But  as  thou,  our  universal  teacher,  —  as  thou, 
O  Shakespeare!  haply  speaking  from  the  hints  of  thine 
own  experience,  —  hast  declared,  — 

"  None  are  so  truly  caught,  when  they  are  catch'd, 
As  wit  turned  fool  ;  folly  in  wisdom  hatched 
Hath  wisdom's  warrant." 

Still,  methinks  that,  in  that  surpassing  and  danger- 
ously indulged  affection  which  levelled  thee,  Maltravers, 
with  the  weakest,  which  overturned  all  thy  fine  philoso- 
phy of  stoicism,  and  made  thee  the  veriest  slave  of  the 
"Rose-Garden,"  —  still,  Maltravers,  thou  mightst,  at 
least,  have  seen  that  thou  hadst  lost  forever  all  right  to 
pride,  all  privilege  to  disdain  the  herd!  But  thou  wert 
proud  of  thine  own  infirmity.  And  far  sharper  must 
be  that  lesson  Avliich  can  teach  thee  that  pride  —  thiue 
angel  —  is  ever  pre-doomed  to  fall. 


426  ALICE;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES. 

What  a  mistake  to  siippose  that  the  passions  are 
strongest  in  youth!  The  passions  are  not  stronger,  but 
the  control  over  them  is  weaker.  They  are  more  easily 
excited,  —  they  are  more  violent  and  more  apparent; 
but  they  have  less  energy,  less  durability,  less  intense 
and  concentrated  power,  than  in  maturer  life.  In 
youth,  passion  succeeds  to  passion,  and  one  breaks 
upon  the  other,  as  waves  upon  a  rock,  till  the  heart 
frets  itself  to  repose.  In  manhood,  the  great  deep  flows 
on,  more  calm,  but  more  profound;  its  serenity  is  the 
proof  of  the  might  and  terror  of  its  course,  were  the 
wind  to  blow  and  the  storm  to  rise. 

A  young  man's  ambition  is  but  vanity:  it  has  no 
definite  aim,  —  it  plays  with  a  thousand  toys.  As  with 
one  passion,  so  with  the  rest.  In  youth,  love  is  ever 
on  the  wing,  but  like  the  birds  in  April,  it  hath  not 
yet  built  its  nest.  With  so  long  a  career  of  summer 
and  hope  before  it,  the  disappointment  of  to-day  is  suc- 
ceeded by  the  novelty  of  to-morrow,  and  the  sun  that 
advances  to  the  noon  but  dries  up  its  fervent  tears. 
But  when  we  have  arrived  at  that  epoch  of  life  when 
if  the  light  fail  us,  if  the  last  rose  Avither,  we  feel  that 
the  loss  cannot  be  retrieved,  and  that  the  frost  and  the 
darkness  are  at  hand,  love  becomes  to  us  a  treasure  that 
we  watch  over  and  hoard  with  a  miser's  care.  Our 
youngest-born  affection  is  our  darling  and  our  idol, 
the  fondest  pledge  of  the  past,  the  most  cherished  of 
our  hopes  for  the  future.  A  certain  melancholy  that 
mingles  with  our  joy  at  the  possession  only  enhances 
its  charm.  We  feel  ourselves  so  dependent  on  it  for 
all  that  is  yet  to  come.  Our  other  barks  —  our  gay  gal- 
leys of  pleasure,  our  stately  argosies  of  pride  —  have 
been  swallowed  up  by  the  remorseless  wave.  On  this 
last  vessel  we  freight  our  all,  — to  its  frail  tenement  we 


ALICE;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES.  427 

commit  o\irselves.  The  star  that  guides  it  is  onr  guide, 
and  in  the  tempest  that  menaces  we  behold  our  own 
doom. 

Still  Maltravers  shrank  from  the  confession  that 
trembled  on  his  lips;  still  he  adliercd  to  the  course 
he  had  prescribed  to  himself.  If  ever  (as  he  had  im- 
plied in  his  letter  to  Cleveland),  —  if  ever  Evelyn 
should  discover  they  were  not  suited  to  each  other! 
The  possibility  of  such  an  affliction  impressed  his  judg- 
ment; the  dread  of  it  chilled  his  heart.  With  all  his 
pride,  there  was  a  certain  humility  in  Maltravers  that 
was  perhaps  one  cause  of  his  reserve.  He  knew  what 
a  beautiful  possession  is  youth,  —  its  sanguine  hopes,  its 
elastic  spirit,  its  inexhaustible  resources!  What  to  the 
eyes  of  woman  were  the  acquisitions  which  manhood 
had  brought  him,  —  the  vast,  but  the  sad  experience, 
the  arid  wisdom,  the  philosophy  based  on  disappoint- 
ment? He  might  be  loved  but  for  the  vain  glitter  of 
name  and  reputation ;  and  love  might  vanish  as  custom 
dimmed  the  illusion.  Men  of  strong  affections  are  jeal- 
ous of  their  own  genius.  They  know  how  separate  a 
thing  from  the  household  character  genius  often  is; 
they  fear  lest  they  should  be  loved  for  a  quality,  not 
for  themselves. 

Thus  communed  he  with  himself;  thus,  as  the  path 

had  become  clear  to  his  hopes,  did  new  fears  arise ;  and 

thus   did   love  bring,  as  it  ever   does,  in  its   burning 

wake, 

"  The  pang,  the  agony,  the  doubt ! " 

Maltravers  then  confirmed  himself  in  the  resolution 
he  had  formed:  he  would  cautiously  examine  Evelyn 
and  himself;  he  would  weigh  in  the  balance  every  straw 
that  the  wind  should  turn  up ;  he  would  not  aspire  to 
the  treasure  unless  he  could  feel  secure  that  the  coffer 


428  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

could  preserve  the  gem.  This  was  not  only  a  prudent, 
it  was  a  just  and  a  generous  determination.  It  was  one 
which  we  all  ought  to  form  if  the  fervor  of  our  passions 
will  permit  us.  We  have  no  right  to  sacrifice  years  to 
moments,  and  to  melt  the  pearl  that  has  no  price  in 
a  single  draught.  But  can  Maltravers  adhere  to  his 
wise  precautions?  The  truth  must  be  spoken,  — it  was, 
perhaps,  the  first  time  in  his  life  that  Maltravers  had 
been  really  in  love. 

As  the  reader  Avill  remember,  he  had  not  been  in  love 
with  the  haughty  Florence ;  admiration,  gratitude,  —  the 
affection  of  the  head,  not  that  of  the  feelings,  —  had  been 
the  links  that  bound  him  to  the  enthusiastic  correspond- 
ent, revealed  in  the  gifted  beauty ;  and  the  gloomy  cir- 
cumstances connected  with  her  early  fate  had  left  deep 
furrows  in  his  memory.  Time  and  vicissitude  had 
effaced  the  wounds;  and  the  light  of  the  beautiful 
dawned  once  more  in  the  face  of  Evelyn.  Valerie 
de  Ventadour  had  been  but  the  fancy  of  a  roving  breast. 
Alice,  the  sweet  Alice,  — her,  indeed,  in  the  first  flower 
of  youth,  he  had  loved  with  a  boy's  romance.  He  had 
loved  her  deeply,  fondly;  but  perhaps  he  had  never 
been  in  love  with  her.  He  had  mourned  her  loss  for 
years;  insensibly  to  himself  her  loss  had  altered  his 
character  and  cast  a  melancholy  gloom  over  all  the  colors 
of  his  life.  But  she  whose  range  of  ideas  was  so  con- 
fined, she  who  had  but  broke  into  knowledge,  as  the 
chrysalis  into  the  butterfly,  —  how  much  in  that  prodi- 
gal and  gifted  nature,  bounding  onwards  into  the  Ijroad 
plains  of  life,  must  the  peasant-girl  have  failed  to  fiJl! 
They  had  had  nothing  in  common  but  their  youth  and 
their  love.  It  was  a  dream  that  had  hovered  over  the 
poet-boy  in  the  morning  twilight;  a  dream  he  had  often 
wished  to  recall;  a  dream  that  had  haunted  him  in  the 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTEKIES.  429 

noonday,  but  had,  as  all  boyish  visions  ever  have 
done,  left  the  heart  unexhausted,  and  the  passions  un- 
consumed.  Years  —  long  years  —  since  then  had  rolled 
away ;  and  yet  perhaps  one  unconscious  attraction  that 
drew  Maltravers  so  suddenly  towards  Evelyn  was  a 
something  indistinct  and  undefinable  that  reminded 
him  of  Alice.  There  was  no  similarity  in  their  fea- 
tures; but  at  times  a  tone  in  Evelyn's  voice,  a  "trick 
of  the  manner,"  an  air,  a  gesture,  —  recalled  him,  over 
the  gulfs  of  time,  to  poetry  and  hope  and  Alice. 

In  the  youth  of  each  —  the  absent  and  the  present 
one  —  there  was  resemblance :  resemblance  in  their  sim- 
plicity, their  grace.  Perhaps  Alice,  of  the  two,  had 
in  her  nature  more  real  depth,  more  ardor  of  feeling, 
more  sublimity  of  sentiment,  than  Evelyn.  But  in  her 
primitive  ignorance,  half  her  noblest  qualities  were 
embedded  and  unknown.  And  Evelyn  —  his  equal  in 
rank;  Evelyn,  well  cultivated;  Evelyn,  so  long  courted, 
so  deeply  studied  —  had  such  advantages  over  the  poor 
peasant-girl!  Still  the  poor  peasant-girl  often  seemed 
to  smile  on  him  from  that  fair  face;  and  in  Evelyn  he 
half  loved  Alice  again. 

So  these  two  persons  now  met  daily ;  their  intercourse 
was  even  more  familiar  than  before ;  their  several  minds 
grew  hourly  more  developed  and  transparent  to  each 
other.  But  of  love,  Maltravers  still  forbore  to  speak: 
they  were  friends, — no  more;  such  friends  as  the  dis- 
parity of  their  years  and  their  experience  might  warrant 
them  to  be.  And  in  that  young  and  innocent  nature, 
—  with  its  rectitude,  its  enthusiasm,  and  its  pious  and 
cheerful  tendencies,  —  ^laltravers  found  freshness  in  the 
desert,  as  the  camel-driver  lingering  at  the  well.  In- 
sensibly his  heart  warmed  again  to  his  kind.  And  as 
the  harp  of   David  to  the   ear   of  Saul    was   the   soft 


430  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

voice   that  lulled  remembrance  and  awakened  hope  in 
the  lonely  man. 

Meanwhile,  what  was  the  effect  that  the  presence,  the 
attentions,  of  Maltravers  produced  on  Evelyn?  Perhaps 
it  was  of  that  kind  which  most  flatters  us  and  most 
deceives.  She  never  dreamed  of  comparing  him  with 
others.  To  her  thoughts  he  stood  aloof  and  alone  from 
all  his  kind.  It  may  seem  a  paradox,  but  it  might  be 
that  she  admired  and  venerated  him  almost  too  much  for 
love.  Still  her  pleasure  in  his  society  was  so  evident 
and  unequivocal,  her  deference  to  his  opinion  so  marked, 
she  sympathized  in  so  many  of  his  objects,  she  had  so 
much  blindness  or  forbearance  for  his  faults  (and  he 
never  sought  to  mask  them),  that  the  most  diffident  of 
men  might  have  drawn  from  so  many  symptoms  hopes 
the  most  auspicious.  Since  the  departure  of  Legard,  the 
gayeties  of  Paris  lost  their  charm  for  Evelyn,  and  more 
than  ever  she  could  appreciate  the  society  of  her  friend. 
He  thus  gradually  lost  his  earlier  fears  of  her  forming 
too  keen  an  attachment  to  the  great  world ;  and  as  noth- 
ing could  be  more  apparent  than  Evelyn's  indifference 
to  the  crowd  of  flatterers  and  suitors  that  hovered  round 
her,  Maltravers  no  longer  dreaded  a  rival.  He  began 
to  feel  assured  that  they  had  both  gone  through  the 
ordeal ;  and  that  he  miglit  ask  for  love  without  a  doubt 
of  its  immutability  and  faith.  At  this  period  they  were 
both  invited,  with  the  Dolti mores  to  spend  a  few  days 
at  the  villa  of  De  Montaigne,  near  St.  Cloud.  And 
there  it  was  that  Maltravers  determined  to  know  his 
fate  I 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  431 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Chaos  of  Thought  and  Passion  all  confused.  —  Pope. 

It  is  to  the  contemplation  of  a  very  different  scene  that 
the  course  of  our  story  now  conducts  us. 

Between  St.  Cloud  and  Versailles  there  was  at  that 
time  (perhaps  there  still  is)  a  lone  and  melancholy 
house,  appropriated  to  the  insane,  —  melancholy,  not 
from  its  site,  but  the  purpose  to  which  it  is  devoted. 
Placed  on  an  eminence,  the  windows  of  the  mansion 
command  —  beyond  the  gloomy  walls  that  gird  the 
garden  ground  —  one  of  those  enchanting  prospects 
which  win  for  France  her  title  to  La  Belle.  There 
the  glorious  Seine  is  seen  in  the  distance,  broad  and 
winding  through  the  varied  plains,  and  beside  the 
gleaming  villages  and  villas.  There,  too,  beneath  the 
clear  blue  sky  of  France,  the  forest-lands  of  Versailles 
and  St.  Germains  stretch  in  dark  luxuriance  around  and 
afar.  There  you  may  see,  sleeping  on  the  verge  of  the 
landscape,  the  mighty  city,  crowned  with  the  thousand 
spires  from  which,  proud  above  the  rest,  rises  the  eyry 
of  Napoleon's  eagle,  the  pinnacle  of  Notre  Dame. 

Remote,  sequestered,  the  place  still  commands  the 
survey  of  the  turbulent  world  below ;  and  madness  gazes 
upon  prospects  that  might  well  charm  the  thoughtful 
eyes  of  imagination  or  of  wisdom !  In  one  of  the  rooms 
of  this  house  sat  Castruccio  Cesarini.  The  apartment 
was  furnished  even  with  elegance;  a  variety  of  books 
strewed  the  tables;   nothing  for  comfort  or   for  solace. 


432  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

that  the  care  and  providence  of  affection  could  dictate, 
was  omitted.  Cesarini  was  alone;  leaning  his  cheek 
upon  his  hand,  he  gazed  on  the  beautiful  and  tranquil 
view  we  have  described.  "  And  am  I  never  to  set  a 
free  foot  on  that  soil  again?  "  he  muttered  indignantly, 
as  he  broke  from  his  reverie. 

The  door  opened,  and  the  keeper  of  the  sad  abode  (a 
surgeon  of  humanity  and  eminence)  entered,  followed 
by  De  Montaigne.  Cesarini  turned  round  and  scowled 
upon  the  latter;  the  surgeon,  after  a  few  words  of  salu- 
tation, withdrew  to  a  corner  of  the  room,  and  appeared 
absorbed  in  a  book.  De  Montaigne  approached  his 
brother-in-law:  "I  have  brought  you  some  poems  just 
published  at  Milan,  my  dear  Castruccio;  they  will 
please  you." 

"  Give  me  my  liberty!  "  cried  Cesarini,  clinching  his 
hands,  "  Why  am  I  to  be  detained  here  1  Why  are 
my  nights  to  be  broken  by  the  groans  of  maniacs,  and 
my  days  devoured  in  a  solitude  that  loathes  the  aspect 
of  things  around  me?  Am  I  mad?  You  know  I  am 
not!  It  is  an  old  trick  to  say  that  poets  are  mad:  you 
mistake  our  agonies  for  insanity.  See,  I  am  calm,  —  I 
can  reason:  give  me  any  test  of  sound  mind,  no  matter 
how  rigid,  I  will  pass  it.  I  am  not  mad, — I  swear  I 
am  not!  " 

"No,  my  dear  Castruccio,"  said  De  Montaigne,  sooth- 
ingly, "  but  you  are  still  unwell,  — you  still  have  fever; 
when  next  I  see  you  perhaps  you  may  be  recovered 
sufficiently  to  dismiss  the  doctor  and  change  the  air. 
Meanwhile,  is  there  anything  you  would  have  added  or 
altered  ?  " 

Cesarini  had  listened  to  this  speech  with  a  mocking 
sarcasm  on  his  lip,  but  an  expression  of  such  hopeless 
wretchedness  in  his  eyes  as  they  alone  can  comprehend 


ALICE;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  433 

who  have  witnessed  madness  in  its  lucid  intervals.  He 
sank  down,  and  his  head  drooped  gloomily  on  his  breast. 
"  No,"  said  he;  "I  want  nothing  but  free  air  or  death, 

—  no  matter  which." 

De  Montaigne  stayed  some  time  with  the  unhappy 
man,  and  sought  to  soothe  him;  but  it  was  in  vain. 
Yet  when  he  rose  to  depart,  Cesarini  started  up,  and 
fixing  on  him  his  large  wistful  eyes,  exclaimed,  "Ah, 
do  not  leave  me  yet!  It  is  so  dreadful  to  be  alone  with 
the  dead  and  the  worse  than  dead !  " 

The  Frenchman  turned  aside  to  wipe  his  eyes,  and 
stifle  the  rising  at  his  heart;  and  again  he  sat,  and  again 
he  sought  to  soothe.  At  length  Cesarini,  seemingly 
more  calm,  gave  him  leave  to  depart.     "  Go,"  said  he, 

—  "go;  tell  Teresa  I  am  better,  that  I  love  her  tenderly, 
that  I  shall  live  to  tell  her  children  not  to  be  poets. 
Stay;  you  asked  if  there  was  aught  I  wished  changed. 
Yes;  this  room:  it  is  too  still;  I  hear  my  own  pulse 
beat  so  loudly  in  the  silence,  —  it  is  horrible!  There 
is  a  room  below,  by  the  window  of  which  there  is  a  tree, 
and  the  winds  rock  its  boughs  to  and  fro,  and  it  sighs 
and  groans  like  a  living  thing;  it  will  be  pleasant  to 
look  at  that  tree,  and  see  the  birds  come   home  to  it, 

—  yet  that  tree  is  wintry  and  blasted  too!  It  will  be 
pleasant  to  hear  it  fret  and  chafe  in  the  stormy  nights; 
it  will  be  a  friend  to  me,  that  old  tree!  Let  me  luive 
that  room.  Nay,  look  not  at  each  other:  it  is  not  so 
high  as  this ;  but  the  window  is  barred,  —  I  cannot 
escape!  "     And  Cesarini  smiled. 

"Certainly,"  said  the  surgeon,  "if  you  prefer  that 
room;  but  it  has  not  so  fine  a  view." 

"  I  hate  the  view  of  the  world  that  has  cast  me  off; 

when  may  I  change  1  " 

"  This  very  evening." 

23 


434  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

"  Thank  you ;  it  will  be  a  great  revolution  in  my 
life." 

And  Cesarini's  eyes  brightened,  and  he  looked  happy. 
De  ^[ontaigne,  thoroughly  unmanned,  tore  himself 
away. 

The  promise  was  kept,  and  Cesarini  was  transferred 
that  night  to  the  chamber  he  had  selected. 

As  soon  as  it  was  deep  night,  the  last  visit  of  the 
keeper  paid,  and,  save  now  and  then,  by  some  sharp 
cry  in  the  more  distant  quarter  of  the  house,  all  was 
still,  Cesarini  rose  from  his  bed;  a  partial  light  came 
from  the  stars  that  streamed  through  the  frosty  and  keen 
air,  and  cast  a  sickly  gleam  through  the  heavy  bars  of 
the  casement.  It  was  then  that  Cesarini  drew  from 
under  his  pillow  a  long-cherished  and  carefully  concealed 
treasure.  Oh,  with  what  rapture  had  he  first  possessed 
himself  of  it!  "With  what  anxiety  had  it  been  watched 
and  guarded !  How  many  cunning  stratagems  and  pro- 
found inventions  had  gone  towards  the  baffling  the 
jealous  search  of  the  keeper  and  his  myrmidons!  The 
abandoned  and  wandering  mother  never  clasped  her  child 
more  fondly  to  her  bosom,  nor  gazed  upon  his  features 
■with  more  passionate  visions  for  the  future.  And  what 
had  so  enchanted  the  poor  prisoner,  so  deluded  the  poor 
maniac?  A  large  nail!  He  had  found  it  accidentally 
in  the  garden;  he  had  hoarded  it  for  weeks;  it  had 
inspired  him  with  the  hope  of  liberty.  Often,  in  the 
days  far  gone,  he  had  read  of  the  wonders  that  had  been 
effected  —  of  the  stones  removed,  and  the  bars  filed  — 
by  the  self-same  kind  of  implement.  He  remembered 
that  the  most  celebrated  of  those  bold  unfortunates  who 
live  a  life  against  law  had  said,  "  Choose  my  prison, 
and  give  me  but  a  rusty  nail,  and  I  laugh  at  your  jailers 
and  your  walls !  *     He  crept  to  the  window ;  he  exam- 


ALICE;   OR,  THE  MYSTERIES.  435 

ined  his  relic  by  the  dim  starlight;  he  kissed  it  pas- 
sionately, and  the  tears  stood  in  his  eyes. 

Ah!  who  shall  determine  the  worth  of  things?  No 
king  that  night  so  prized  his  crown  as  tlie  madman 
prized  that  rusty  inch  of  wire,  —  the  proper  prey  of  the 
rubbish-cart  and  dunghill.  Little  didst  thou  think, 
old  blacksmith,  when  thou  drewest  the  dull  metal  from 
the  fire,  of  what  precious  price  it  was  to  become! 

Cesarini,  with  the  astuteness  of  his  malady,  had  long 
marked  out  this  chamber  for  the  scene  of  his  operations; 
he  had  observed  that  the  framework  in  which  the  bars 
were  set  seemed  old  and  worm-eaten;  that  the  window 
was  but  a  few  feet  from  the  ground ;  that  the  noise  made 
in  the  winter  niglits  by  the  sighing  branches  of  the  old 
tree  without  would  deaden  the  sound  of  the  lone  work- 
man. Xow,  then,  his  hopes  were  to  be  crowned.  Poor 
fool!  and  even  thou  hast  hope  still!  All  that  night  he 
toiled  and  toiled,  and  sought  to  work  his  iron  into  a 
file;  now  he  tried  the  bars,  and  now  the  framework. 
Alas!  he  had  not  learned  the  skill  in  such  tools,  pos- 
sessed by  his  renowned  model  and  inspirer;  the  flesh 
was  worn  from  his  fingers ;  the  cold  drops  stood  on  his 
brow;  and  morning  surprised  him,  advanced  not  a  hair's- 
breadth  in  his  labor. 

He  crept  back  to  bed,  and  again  hid  the  useless  im- 
plement, and  at  last  he  slept. 

And  night  after  night  the  same  task,  —  the  same 
results!  But  at  length,  one  day,  when  Cesarini  re- 
turned from  his  moody  walk  in  the  gardens  (pleasui^e- 
grounds  they  were  called  by  the  owner) ,  he  found  better 
workmen  than  he  at  the  window.  They  were  repairing 
the  framework;  they  were  strengthening  the  bars,  —  all 
hope  was  now  gone!  The  unfortunate  said  nothing: 
too  cunning  to  show  his  despair,  he  eyed  them  silently,. 


436  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

and  cursed  tbem ;  but  the  old  tree  was  left  still,  and  that 
was  something,  —  company  and  music! 

A  day  or  two  after  this  barbarous  counterplot,  Cesa- 
rini  was  walking  in  the  gardens  towards  the  latter 
part  of  the  afternoon  (just  when,  in  the  short  days,  the 
darkness  begins  to  steal  apace  over  the  chill  and  wester- 
ing sun),  when  he  was  accosted  by  a  fellow-captive,  who 
had  often  before  sought  his  acquaintance;  for  they  try 
to  have  friends,  —  those  poor  people !  Even  we  do  the 
same,  though  tee  say  we  are  not  mad!  This  man  had 
been  a  warrior,  had  served  with  Napoleon,  had  received 
honors  and  ribbons,  —  might,  for  aught  we  know,  have 
dreamed  of  being  a  marshal.  But  the  demon  smote  him 
in  the  hour  of  his  pride.  It  was  his  disease  to  fancy 
himself  a  monarch.  He  believed,  for  he  forgot  chron- 
ology, that  he  was  at  once  the  Iron  Mask  and  the  true 
sovereign  of  France  and  Navarre,  confined  in  state  by 
the  usurpers  of  his  crown.  On  other  points  he  was 
generally  sane ;  a  tall,  strong  man,  with  fierce  features 
and  stern  lines,  wherein  could  be  read  many  a  bloody 
tale  of  violence  and  wrong,  of  lawless  passions,  of 
terrible  excesses,  to  which  madness  might  be  at  once 
the  consummation  and  the  curse.  This  man  had  taken 
a  fancy  to  Cesarini,  and  in  some  hours  Cesarini  had 
shunned  him  less  than  others;  for  they  could  alike 
rail  against  all  living  things.  The  lunatic  approached 
Cesarini  with  an  air  of  dignity  and  condescension,  — 

"  It  is  a  cold  night,  sir,  and  there  will  be  no  moon. 
Has  it  never  occurred  to  you  that  the  winter  is  the 
season  for  escape  ?  " 

Cesarini  started;  the  ex-officer  continued:  — 

"  Ay ;  I  see  by  your  manner  that  you  too  chafe  at 
our  ignominious  confinement.  I  think  that  together 
we  might  brave  the  worst.     You  probably  are  confined 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  437 

on  some  state  offence.  I  give  you  full  pardon,  if  you  as- 
sist me.  For  myself  I  have  but  to  appear  in  my  capital; 
old  Louis  le  Grand  must  be  near  his  last  hour. " 

"  This  madman  my  best  companion !  "  thought  Cesa- 
rini,  revolted  at  his  own  infirmity,  as  Gulliver  started 
from  the  Yahoo.     "  No  matter,  he  talks  of  escape. " 

"And  how  think  you,"  said  the  Italian,  aloud, — 
"  how  think  you  that  we  have  any  chance  of  deliverance  ?  " 

"Hush,  —  speak  lower,"  said  the  soldier.  "In  the 
inner  garden  I  have  observed  for  the  last  two  days  that 
a  gardener  is  employed  in  nailing  some  fig-trees  and 
vines  to  the  walL  Between  that  garden  and  these 
grounds  there  is  but  a  paling,  which  we  can  easily 
scale.  Ho  works  till  dusk ,  at  tlie  latest  hour  we  can, 
let  us  climb  noiselessly  over  the  paling,  and  creep  along 
the  vegetable  beds  till  we  reach  the  man.  He  uses  a 
ladder  for  his  purpose;  the  rest  is  clear:  we  must  fell 
and  gag  him,  —  twist  his  neck  if  necessary.  I  have 
twisted  a  neck  before,"  quoth  the  maniac,  with  a  horrid 
smile.  "  The  ladder  will  help  us  over  the  wall ;  and 
the  night  soon  grows  dark  at  this  season." 

Cesarini  listened,  and  his  heart  beat  quick.  "  Will 
it  be  too  late  to  try  to-night?  "  said  he,  in  a  whisper. 

"Perhaps  not,"  said  the  soldier,  who  retained  all  his 
military  acuteness.  "But  are  you  prepared]  Don't 
you  require  time  to  man  yourself  ?  " 

"  Xo,  no;  I  have  had  time  enough!     I  am  ready." 

"Well,  then  —  hist!  —  we  are  watched:  one  of  the 
jailers!  Talk  easily,  smile,  —  laugh.  This  way." 
They  passed  by  one  of  the  watch  of  the  place,  and  just 
as  they  were  in  his  hearing,  the  soldier  turned  to 
Cesarini,  "Sir,  Avill  you  favor  me  with  your  snuff- 
box ?  " 

"  I  have  none. " 


438  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

"None,  —  what  a  pity!  My  good  friend,"  and  he 
turned  to  the  scout,  "  may  I  request  you  to  look  in  my 
room  for  my  snuff-box  1  —  it  is  on  the  chimney-piece:  it 
Avill  not  take  you  a  minute." 

The  soldier  was  one  of  those  whose  insanity  was 
deemed  most  harmless;  and  his  relations,  who  were  rich 
and  well-born,  had  requested  every  indulgence  to  be 
shown  to  him.  The  watch  suspected  nothing,  and  re- 
paired to  the  house.  As  soon  as  the  trees  hid  him, 
"  Now,"  said  the  soldier,  "  stoop  almost  on  all  fours,  and 
run  quick." 

So  saying,  the  maniac  crouched  low,  and  glided  along 
with  a  rapidity  which  did  not  distance  Cesarini.  They 
reached  the  paling  that  separated  the  vegetable-garden 
from  the  pleasure-ground.  The  soldier  vaulted  over  it 
with  ease;  Cesarini,  with  more  difficulty,  followed. 
They  crept  along;  the  herbs  and  vegetable  beds,  with 
their  long  bare  stalks,  concealed  their  movements;  the 
man  was  still  on  the  ladder.  "  La  bonne  Esperance  !  " 
said  the  soldier,  through  his  ground  teeth,  muttering 
some  old  watchword  of  the  wars,  and  (while  Cesarini, 
below,  held  the  ladder  steadfast)  he  rushed  up  the  steps, 
and  with  a  sudden  effort  of  his  muscular  arm,  hurled 
the  gardener  to  the  ground.  The  man,  surprised,  half 
stunned,  and  wholly  terrified,  did  not  attempt  to  wrestle 
with  the  two  madmen;  he  uttered  loud  cries  for  help! 
But  help  came  too  late ;  these  strange  and  fearful  com- 
rades had  already  scaled  the  wall,  had  dropped  on  the 
other  side,  and  were  fast  making  across  the  dusky  fields 
to  the  neighboring  forest. 


ALICE:  OR    THE  MYSTERIES.  439 


CHAPTER  V. 

Hopes  and  Fears 
Start  up  alarmed,  and  o'er  life's  narrow  verge 
Look  down :  on  what  1  —  a  fathomless  abyss ! 

Yocxo, 

Midnight,  and  intense  frost!  There  they  were,  house- 
less and  breadless,  the  two  fugitives,  in  the  heart  of 
that  beautiful  forest  which  has  rung  to  the  horns  of 
many  a  royal  chase.  The  soldier  —  whose  youth  had 
been  inured  to  hardships,  and  to  the  conquests  which 
our  mother  wit  wrings  from  the  stepdame  nature  — 
had  made  a  fire  by  the  friction  of  two  pieces  of  dry 
wood:  such  wood  was  hard  to  be  found,  for  tlie  snow 
whitened  the  level  ground,  and  lay  deep  in  the  hollows ; 
and  when  it  was  discovered,  the  fuel  was  slow  to  burn, 
—  however,  the  fire  blazed  red  at  last.  On  a  little 
mound,  shaded  by  a  semi-circle  of  huge  trees,  sat  tlie 
outlaws  of  human  reason.  They  cowered  over  the  blaze 
opposite  to  each  other,  and  the  glare  crimsoned  tlieir 
features.  And  each  in  his  heart  longed  to  rid  himself 
of  his  mad  neighbor;  and  each  felt  the  awe  of  solitude, 
the  dread  of  sleep  beside  a  comrade  whose  soul  liad 
lost  God's  light. 

"Ho!  "  said  the  Avarrior,  breaking  a  silence  that  had 
been  long  kept,  "this  is  cold  work  at  the  best,  and 
hunger  pinches  me;  I  almost  regret  the  prison." 

"  I  do  not  feel  the  cold,"  said  Cesarini,  "  and  I  do  not 
care  for  hunger:  I  am  revelling  only  in  the  sense  of 
liberty!" 


440  ALICE;  OK,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

"  Try  and  sleep, "  quotli  the  soldier,  with  a  coaxing 
and  sinister  softness  of  voice ;  "  we  will  take  it  by  turns 
to  watch." 

"  I  cannot  sleep ;  take  you  the  first  turn. " 

"  Harkye,  sir!  "  said  the  soldier,  sullenly:  "I  must 
not  have  my  commands  disputed;  now  we  are  free,  we 
are  no  longer  equal :  I  am  heir  to  the  crowns  of  France 
and  Xavarre.     Sleep,  I  say!  " 

"  And  what  prince  or  potentate,  king  or  kaisar,"  cried 
Cesarini,  catching  the  quick  contagion  of  the  fit  that  had 
seized  his  comrade,  "  can  dictate  to  the  Monarch  of 
Earth  and  Air,  the  Elements  and  the  music-breathing 
Stars?  I  am  Cesarini  the  Bard;  and  the  huntsman 
Orion  halts  in  his  chase  above  to  listen  to  my  lyre!  Be 
stilled,  rude  man !  thou  scarest  away  the  angels,  Avhose 
breatli  even  now  was  rushing  through  my  hair." 

"It  is  too  horrible!  "  cried  the  grim  man  of  blood, 
shivering;  "my  enemies  are  relentless,  and  give  me  a 
madman  for  a  jailer." 

"Ha! — a  madman!"  exclaimed  Cesarini,  springing 
to  his  feet,  and  glaring  at  the  soldier  with  eyes  that 
caught  and  rivalled  the  blaze  of  the  fire.  "  And  who 
are  you, — what  devil  from  the  deep  hell,  that  art 
leagued  with  my  persecutors  against  me  ?  " 

With  the  instinct  of  his  old  calling  and  valor,  the 
soldier  also  rose  when  he  saw  the  movement  of  his  com- 
panion; and  his  fierce  features  worked  with  rage  and 
fear. 

"  Avaunt!  "  said  he,  waving  his  arm;  "we  banish 
thee  from  our  presence!  This  is  our  palace,  and  our 
guards  are  at  hand!  "  pointing  to  the  still  and  skeleton 
trees  that  grouped  round  in  ghastly  bareness.     "  Begone !  " 

At  that  moment,  they  heard  at  a  distance  the  deep  bark- 
ing of  a  dog,  and  each  cried  simultaneously,  "  They  are 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MVSTElilES.  441 

after  me !  —  betrayed !  "  The  soldier  sprang  at  the  throat 
of  Cesarini]  but  the  Italian  at  the  suuie  instant  cauglit  a 
half-burned  brand  from  the  fire,  and  dashed  the  blazing 
end  in  the  face  of  his  assailant.  The  soldier  uttered  a 
cry  of  pain,  and  recoiled  back,  blinded  and  dismayed. 
Cesarini,  whose  madness,  when  fairly  roused,  was  of 
the  most  deadly  nature,  again  raised  his  weapon,  and 
probably  nothing  but  death  could  have  separated  the 
foes;  but  again  the  bay  of  the  dog  was  heard,  and  Cesa- 
rini, answering  the  suiuid  by  a  wild  yell,  threw  down 
the  brand,  and  fled  away  through  the  forest  with  incon- 
ceivable swiftness.  He  hurried  on  through  bush  and 
dell,  —  and  the  boughs  tore  his  garments  and  mangled  his 
flesh,  — but  stopped  not  his  progress  till  he  fell  at  last  on 
the  ground,  breathless  and  exhausted,  and  heard  from 
some  far-ofi"  clock  the  second  hour  of  morning.  He  had 
left  the  forest:  a  farmhouse  stood  before  him;  and  the 
whitened  roofs  of  scattered  cottages  sloped  to  the  tran- 
quil sky.  The  witness  of  man  —  the  social  tranquil  sky 
and  the  reasoning  man  —  operated  like  a  charm  upon 
the  senses  which  recent  excitement  had  more  than 
usually  disturbed.  The  unhappy  wretch  gazed  at  the 
peaceful  abodes,  and  sighed  heavily;  then,  rising  from 
the  earth,  he  crept  into  one  of  the  sheds  that  adjoined 
the  farmhouse,  and  throwing  himself  on  some  straw, 
slept  sound  and  quietly  till  daylight  and  the  voices  of 
peasants  in  the  shed  awakened  him. 

He  rose  refreshed,  calm,  and,  for  ordinary  purposes, 
sufficiently  sane  to  prevent  suspicion  of  his  disease.  He 
approached  the  startled  peasants,  and  representing  him- 
self as  a  traveller  who  had  lost  his  way  in  the  night  and 
amidst  the  forest,  begged  for  food  and  water.  Though 
his  garments  were  torn,  they  were  new  and  of  good  fash- 
ion ;  his  voice  was  mild ;  his  whole  appearance  and  ad- 


442  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

dress  those  of  one  of  some  station  —  and  the  French, 
peasant  is  a  hospitable  fellow.  Cesarini  refreshed  and 
rested  himself  an  hour  or  two  at  the  farm,  and  then 
resumed  his  Avanderings.  He  offered  no  money,  for  the 
rules  of  the  asylum  forbade  money  to  its  inmates:  he 
had  none  with  him;  but  none  was  expected  from  him, 
and  they  bade  him  farewell  as  kindly  as  if  he  had  bought 
their  blessings.  He  then  began  to  consider  where  he 
was  to  take  refuge,  and  how  provide  for  himself;  the 
feeling  of  liberty  braced,  and  for  a  time  restored,  his 
intellect. 

Fortunately,  he  had  on  his  person,  besides  some  rings 
of  trifling  cost,  a  watch  of  no  inconsiderable  value,  the 
sale  of  which  might  support  him,  in  such  obscure  and 
humble  quarter  as  he  could  alone  venture  to  inhabit,  for 
several  weeks,  perhaps  months.  This  thought  made 
him  cheerful  and  elated;  he  walked  lustily  on,  shun- 
ning the  highroad.  The  day  was  clear,  the  sun  bright, 
the  air  full  of  racy  health.  Oh,  what  soft  raptures 
swelled  the  heart  of  the  wanderer,  as  he  gazed  around 
him!  The  poet  and  the  freeman  alike  stirred  within 
his  shattered  heart!  He  paused  to  contemplate  the 
berries  of  the  icy  trees,  to  listen  to  the  sharp  glee  of 
the  blackbird ;  and  once  —  when  he  found  beneath  a 
hedge  a  cold,  scentless  group  of  hardy  violets  —  he 
laughed  aloud  in  his  joy.  In  that  laughter  there  was 
no  madness,  no  danger;  but  when,  as  he  journeyed 
on,  he  passed  through  a  little  hamlet,  and  saw  the  chil- 
dren at  play  upon  the  ground,  and  heard  from  the  open 
door  of  a  cabin  the  sound  of  rustic  music,  then,  indeed, 
he  paused  abruptly ;  the  past  gathered  over  him :  he 
knew  that  which  he  had  been,  that  which  he  was  now  ! 
—  an  awful  memory!  a  dread  revelation!  And  cover- 
ing his  face  with  his  hands,  he  wept  aloud.     In  those 


AT.IC'E  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  443 

tears  were  the  peril  and  the  method  of  madness.  He 
woke  from  thein  to  think  of  his  youth;  his  hopes,  of 
Florence,  of  revenge!  Lumley,  Lord  Vargrave!  better, 
from  that  hour,  to  encounter  the  tiger  in  his  lair  than 
find  thyself  alone  with  that  miserable  man! 


444  ALICE;  OR,  THE   MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTEE  VI. 

It  seemed  the  laurel  chaste  and  stubborn  oak, 
And  all  the  gentle  trees  on  earth  that  grew  ; 
It  seemed  the  land,  the  sea,  and  heaven  above, 
All  breathed  out  fancy  sweet,  and  sighed  out  love. 

Fairfax:  Tassa 

At  De  Montaigne's  villa,  Evelyn  for  the  first  time 
gathered  from  the  looks,  the  manners,  of  ]\Ialtravers  that 
she  was  beloved.  It  was  no  longer  possible  to  mistake 
the  evidences  of  affection.  Formerly,  Maltravers  had 
availed  himself  of  his  advantage  of  years  and  experience, 
and  would  warn,  admonish,  dispute,  even  reprove; 
formerly,  there  had  been  so  much  of  seeming  caprice,  of 
cold  distance,  of  sudden  and  wayward  haughtiness,  in 
his  bearing:  but  now,  the  whole  man  was  changed, — 
the  Mentor  had  vanished  in  the  lover;  he  held  his 
being  on  her  breath.  Her  lightest  pleasure  seemed  to 
have  grown  his  law;  no  coldness  ever  alternated  the 
deep  devotion  of  his  manner;  an  anxious,  a  timid,  a 
watchful  softness  replaced  all  his  stately  self-possession. 
Evelyn  saw  that  she  was  loved;  and  she  then  looked 
into  her  own  heart. 

I  have  said  before  that  Evelyn  was  gentle  even  to 
yieldingness ;  that  her  susceptibility  made  her  shrink 
from  the  thought  of  pain  to  another;  and  so  thoroughly 
did  she  revere  Maltravers  —  so  grateful  did  she  feel  for  a 
love  that  could  not  but  flatter  pride,  and  raise  her  in  her 
self-esteem  —  that  she  felt  it  impossible  that  she  could 
reject  his  suit.     "  Then,  do  I  love  him  as  I  dreamed  I 


ALICE;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  445 

could  love?  "  she  asked  herself;  and  her  heart  gave  no 
intelligible  reply.  "Yes;  it  must  be  so:  in  his  pres- 
ence I  feel  a  tranquil  and  eloquent  charm ;  his  praise 
delights  me ;  his  esteem  is  my  most  high  ambition ;  and 
yet  —  and  yet  —  "  she  sighed  and  thought  of  Legard. 
"  But  he  loved  me  not !  "  and  she  turned  restlessly  from 
that  image.  "  He  thinks  but  of  the  world,  of  pleasure; 
Maltravers  is  right,  —  the  spoiled  children  of  society 
cannot  love.     Why  should  I  think  of  him  1  " 

There  vpere  no  guests  at  the  villa  except  Maltravers, 
Evelyn,  and  Lord  and  Lady  Doltimore.  Evelyn  was 
much  captivated  by  the  graceful  vivacity  of  Teresa, 
though  that  vivacity  was  not  what  it  had  been  before  her 
brother's  affliction;  their  children,  some  of  whom  were 
grown  up,  constituted  an  amiable  and  intelligent  family ; 
and  De  Montaigne  himself  was  agreeable  and  winning, 
despite  his  sober  manners,  and  his  love  of  philosophical 
dispute.  Evelyn  often  listened  thoughtfully  to  Teresa's 
praises  of  her  husband,  —  to  her  account  of  the  happi- 
ness she  had  known  in  a  marriage  where  there  had  been 
so  great  a  disparity  of  years.  Evelyn  began  to  ques- 
tion the  truth  of  her  early  visions  of  romance. 

Caroline  saw  the  unequivocal  attachment  of  IMaltra- 
vers  with  the  same  indifTerence  with  which  she  had  anti- 
cipated the  suit  of  Legard.  It  was  the  same  to  her  what 
hand  delivered  Evelyn  and  herself  from  the  designs  of 
Vargrave;  butVargrave  occupied  nearly  all  her  thoughts. 
The  newspapers  had  reported  him  as  seriously  ill,  —  at 
one  time  in  great  danger.  He  was  now  recovering,  but 
still  unable  to  quit  his  room.  He  had  written  to  her 
once,  lamenting  his  ill-fortune,  trusting  soon  to  be  at 
Paris,  and  touching  with  evident  pleasure  upon  Legard's 
departure  for  Vienna,  which  he  had  seen  in  the  "  Morn- 
ing Post."     But  he  was  afar,  alone,  ill,  un tended;  and 


446  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

though  Caroline's  guilty  love  had  been  much  abated  by 
Yargrave's  icy  selfishness,  by  absence  and  remorse, 
still  she  had  the  heart  of  a  woman:  and  Vargrave  was 
the  only  one  that  had  ever  touched  it.  She  felt  for 
him,  and  grieved  in  silence;  she  did  not  dare  to  xitter 
sympathy  aloud,  for  Doltimore  had  already  given  evi- 
dence of  a  suspicious  and  jealous  temper. 

Evelyn  was  also  deeply  affected  by  the  account  of  her 
guardian's  illness.  As  I  before  said,  the  moment  he 
ceased  to  be  her  lover,  her  childish  affection  for  him 
returned.  She  even  permitted  herself  to  write  to  him ; 
and  a  tone  of  melancholy  depression  which  artfully  per- 
vaded his  reply  struck  her  with  something  like  remorse. 
He  told  her  in  that  letter  that  he  had  much  to  say  to 
her  relative  to  an  investment  in  conformity  with  her 
stepfather's  wishes,  and  he  should  hasten  to  Paris,  even 
before  the  doctor  would  sanction  his  removal.  Vargrave 
forbore  to  mention  what  the  meditated  investment  was. 
The  last  public  accounts  of  the  minister  had,  however, 
been  so  favorable  that  his  arrival  might  be  almost  daily 
expected ;  and  both  Caroline  and  Evelyn  felt  relieved. 

To  De  Montaigne,  Maltravers  confided  his  attach- 
ment, and  both  the  Frenchman  and  Teresa  sanctioned 
and  encouraged  it.  Evelyn  enchanted  them ;  and  they 
had  passed  that  age  when  they  could  have  imagined  it 
possible  that  the  man  they  had  known  almost  as  a  boy 
was  separated  by  years  from  the  lively  feelings  and  ex- 
treme youth  of  Evelyn.  They  could  not  believe  that 
the  sentiments  he  had  inspired  were  colder  than  those 
that  animated  himself. 

One  day,  Maltravers  had  been  absent  for  some  hours 
on  his  solitary  rambles,  and  De  Montaigne  had  not  yet 
returned  from  Paris, — which  he  visited  almost  daily. 
It  was  so  late  in  the  noon  as  almost  to  border  on  evening, 


ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  447 

"when  IMaltravors,  on  his  return,  entered  the  grounds  by 
a  gate  that  separated  them  from  an  extensive  wood.  He 
saw  Evelyn,  Teresa,  and  two  of  her  children,  walking  on 
a  kind  of  terrace  almost  immediately  before  him.  He 
joined  them ;  and,  somehow  or  other,  it  soon  chanced 
that  Teresa  and  himself  loitered  behind  the  rest,  a  little 
distance  out  of  hearing.  "  Ah,  Mr.  Maltravers,"  said 
the  former,  "  we  miss  the  soft  skies  of  Italy  and  the 
beautiful  hues  of  Como. " 

"  And  for  my  part,  T  miss  the  youth  that  gave  *  glory 
to  the  grass  and  splendor  to  the  flower.*  " 

"  Nay ;  we  are  happier  now,  believe  me,  —  or  at  least  I 
should  be,  if  —  but  I  must  not  think  of  my  poor  brother. 
Ah!  if  his  guilt  depriA'^ed  you  of  one  who  was  worthy  of 
you,  it  would  be  some  comfort  to  his  sister  to  think  at  last 
that  the  loss  was  repaired.     And  you  still  have  scruples  ?  " 

"Who  that  loves  truly  has  not?  How  young,  how 
lovely,  how  worthy  of  lighter  hearts  and  fairer  forms 
than  mine!  Give  me  back  the  years  that  have  passed 
since  we  last  met  at  Como,  and  I  might  hope!  " 

"  And  this  to  me,  who  have  enjoyed  such  happiness 
with  one  older,  when  we  married,  by  ten  years  than 
you   are   now !  " 

"  But  you,  Teresa,  were  born  to  see  life  through  the 
Claude    glass. " 

"Ah!  you  provoke  me  with  these  refinements;  you 
turn  from  a  happiness  you  have  but  to  demand. " 

"Do  not  —  do  not  raise  my  hopes  too  high,"  cried 
Maltravers,  with  great  emotion ;  "  I  have  been  schooling 
myself  all  day.     But  if  I  am  deceived!  " 

"  Trust  me,  you  are  not.  See,  even  now  she  turns 
round  to  look  for  you;  she  loves  you,  —  loves  you  as 
you  deserve.  This  difference  of  years  that  you  so 
lament  does  but  deepen  and  elevate  her  attachment!  " 


448  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

Teresa  turned  to  Maltravers,  surprised  at  his  silence. 
How  joyous  sat  his  heart  upon  his  looks,  —  no  gloom 
on  his  brow,  no  doubt  in  his  sparkling  eyes!  He  waa 
mortal ,  and  he  yielded  to  the  delight  of  believing  him- 
self beloved.  He  pressed  Teresa's  hand  in  silence, 
and  quitting  her  abruptly,  gained  the  side  of  Evelyn. 
Madame  de  Montaigne  comprehended  all  that  passed 
within  him;  and  as  she  followed,  she  soon  contrived 
to  detach  her  children,  and  returned  with  them  to  the 
house  on  a  whispered  pretence  of  seeing  if  their  father 
had  yet  arrived.  Evelyn  and  Maltravers  continued 
to  walk  on,  —  not  aware,  at  first,  that  the  rest  of  the 
party  were  not  close  behind. 

The  sun  had  set;  and  they  were  in  a  part  of  the 
grounds  which,  by  way  of  contrast  to  the  rest,  was  laid 
out  in  the  English  fashion.  The  walk  wound,  serpent- 
like,  among  a  profusion  of  evergreens  irregularly  planted; 
the  scene  was  shut  in  and  bounded,  except  where,  at  a 
distance,  through  an  opening  of  the  trees,  you  caught 
the  spire  of  a  distant  church,  over  which  glimmered, 
faint  and  fair,  the  smile  of  the  evening  star. 

"  This  reminds  me  of  home,"  said  Evelyn,  gently. 

"  And  hereafter  it  will  remind  me  of  you,"  said  Mal- 
travers, in  whispered  accents.  He  fixed  his  eyes  on  her 
as  he  spoke.  Never  had  his  look  been  so  true  to  his 
heart;  nnver  had  his  voice  so  undisguisedly  expressed 
the  profound  and  passionate  sentiment  which  had 
sprung  up  within  him,  —  to  constitute,  as  he  then  be- 
lieved, the  latest  bliss,  or  the  crowning  misery  of  his 
life!  At  that  moment,  it  was  a  sort  of  instinct  that  told 
him  they  were  alone  ;  for  who  has  not  felt  —  in  those 
few  and  memorable  hours  of  life  when  love  long  sup- 
pressed overflows  the  fountain,  and  seems  to  pervade  the 
whole  frame  and  the  whole  spirit  —  that  there  is  a  magic 


ALICE;   OR,    THE    MYSTERIES.  449 

around  and  within  us  that  hath  a  keener  intelligence 
than  intellect  itself?  Alone  at  such  an  hour  with  the 
one  we  love,  the  whole  world  beside  seems  to  vanish, 
and  our  feet  to  have  entered  the  soil,  and  our  lips  to 
have  caught  the  air,  of  fairy-land. 

They  were  alone.  And  why  did  Evelyn  tremble  t 
Why  did  she  feel  that  a  crisis  of  existence  was  at  hand? 

"  Miss  Cameron,  Evelyn,"  said  Maltravers,  after  they 
had  walked  some  moments  in  silence,  "  hear  me,  and 
let  your  reason  as  well  as  your  heart  reply.  From  the 
first  moment  we  met,  you  became  dear  to  me.  Yes, 
even  when  a  child,  your  sweetness  and  your  fortitude 
foretold  so  well  what  you  would  be  in  womanhood, 
even  then  you  left  upon  my  memory  a  delightful  and 
mysterious  shadow,  too  prophetic  of  the  light  that  now 
hallows  and  wraps  your  image!  We  met  again,  and 
the  attraction  that  had  drawn  me  towards  you  years 
before  was  suddenly  renewed.  I  love  you,  Evelyn !  — ■ 
I  love  you  better  than  all  words  can  tell !  Your  future 
fate,  your  welfare,  your  happiness,  contain  and  embody 
all  the  hopes  left  to  me  in  life!  But  our  years  are 
different,  Evelyn:  I  have  known  sorrows;  and  the 
disappointments  and  the  experience  that  have  severed 
me  from  the  common  world  have  robbed  me  of  more 
than  time  itself  hath  done.  They  have  robbed  me  of 
that  zest  for  the  ordinary  pleasures  of  our  race,  —  which 
may  it  be  yours,  sweet  Evelyn,  ever  to  retain.  To  me, 
the  time  foretold  by  the  preacher  as  the  lot  of  age  has 
already  arrived ,  —  when  the  sun  and  the  moon  are  dark- 
ened, and  when,  save  in  you  and  through  you,  I  have 
no  pleasure  in  anything.  Judge  if  such  a  being  you 
can  love !  Judge  if  my  very  confession  does  not  revolt 
and  chill,  —  if  it  does  not  present  to  you  a  gloomy  and 
cheerless  future,  were  it  possible  that  you  could  unite 

39 


450  ALICE  ;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES. 

your  lot  to  mine!  Answer  not  from  friendship  or  from 
pity ;  the  love  I  feel  for  you  can  have  a  reply  from  love 
alone,  and  from  that  reasoning  which  love,  in  its  endur- 
ing power  —  in  its  healthful  confidence,  in  its  prophetic 
foresight  —  alone  supplies!  I  can  resign  you  without  a 
murmur ;  but  I  could  not  live  with  you  and  even  fancy 
that  you  had  one  care  I  could  not  soothe,  though  you 
might  have  happiness  I  could  not  share.  And  fate  does 
not  present  to  me  any  vision  so  dark  and  terrible,  — no, 
not  your  loss  itself;  no,  not  your  indifference;  no,  not 
your  aversion,  —  as  your  discovery,  after  time  should 
make  regret  in  vain,  that  you  had  mistaken  fancy  or 
friendship  for  affection,  —  a  sentiment  for  love.  Eve- 
lyn, I  have  confided  to  you  all,  —  all  this  wild  heart,  now 
and  evermore  your  own.     My  destiny  is  with  you !  " 

Evelyn  was  silent;  he  took  her  hand,  — and  her  tears 
fell  warm  and  fast  upon  it.  Alarmed  and  anxious,  he 
drew  her  towards  him  and  gazed  upon  her  face. 

"  You  fear  to  woimd  me,"  he  said,  with  pale  lips  and 
trembling  voice.     "  Speak  on,  —  I  can  bear  all." 

"  Xo,  no,"  said  Evelyn,  falteringly ;  "  I  have  no  fear 
but  not  to  deserve  you. " 

"  You  love  me,  then,  — you  love  me!  "  cried  Maltra- 
vers  wildly,  and  clasping  her  to  his  heart. 

The  moon  rose  at  that  instant,  and  the  wintry  sward 
and  the  dark  trees  were  bathed  in  the  sudden  light. 
The  time;  the  light,  so  exquisite  to  all,  even  in  loneli- 
ness and  in  sorrow, — how  divine  in  such  companion- 
ship, in  such  overflowing  and  ineffable  sense  of  bliss! 
Tliere  and  then  for  the  first  time  did  Maltravers  press 
upon  that  modest  and  blushing  cheek  the  kiss  of  love, 
of  hope,  —  the  seal  of  a  union  he  fondly  hoped  the  grave 
itself  could  not  dissolve! 


ALICE;   OR,   THE  MYSTERIES.  451 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Queen.    Whereon  do  you  look  ? 

Hamlet.  On  him  —  on  him,  —  look  you  how  pale  he  glares  ! 

Hamlet. 

Perhaps  to  Maltravers  those  fe%y  minutes  which  en- 
sued, as  they  walked  slowly  on,  compensated  for  all  the 
troubles  and  cares  of  years ;  for  natures  like  his  feel  joy 
even  yet  more  intensely  than  sorrow.  It  might  be  that 
the  transport,  the  delirium  of  passionate  and  grateful 
thoughts  that  he  poured  forth,  when  at  last  he  could 
summon  words,  expressed  feelings  the  young  Evelyn 
could  not  comprehend,  and  which  less  delighted  than 
terrified  her  with  the  new  responsibility  she  had  in- 
curred. But  love  so  honest,  so  generous,  so  intense, 
dazzled  and  bewildered  and  carried  her  whole  soul  away. 
Certainly  at  that  hour  she  felt  no  regret,  no  thought  but 
that  one  in  whom  she  had  so  long  recognized  something 
nobler  than  is  found  in  the  common  world,  was  thus 
happy  and  thus  made  happy  by  a  word,  a  look  from  her! 
Such  a  thought  is  woman's  dearest  triumph ;  and  one  so 
thoroughly  unselfish,  so  yielding  and  so  soft,  could  not  be 
insensible  to  the  rapture  she  had  caused. 

"And  oh,"  said  Maltravers,  as  he  clasped  again  and 
again  the  hand  that  he  believed  he  had  won  forever, 
"  now,  at  length,  have  I  learned  how  beautiful  is  life ! 
For  this  —  for  this  I  have  been  reserved!  Heaven  is 
merciful  to  me,  —  and  the  waking  world  is  brighter  than 
all  my  dreams!  " 


452  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

He  ceased  abruptly.  At  that  instant  they  were  once 
more  on  the  terrace  where  he  had  first  joined  Teresa, 
facing  the  wood,  which  was  divided  by  a  slight  and  low 
palisade  from  the  spot  where  they  stood.  He  ceased 
abruptly,  for  his  eyes  encoxintered  a  terrible  and  ominous 
opposition,  — a  form  connected  with  dreary  associations 
of  fate  and  woe.  The  figure  had  raised  itself  upon  a  pile 
of  firewood  on  the  other  side  the  fence,  and  hence  it 
seemed  almost  gigantic  in  its  stature.  It  gazed  upon  the 
pair  with  eyes  that  burned  with  a  preternatural  blaze; 
and  a  voice  which  Maltravers  too  well  remembered, 
shrieked  out,  "Love  —  love!  What!  thou  love  again? 
Where  is  the  dead  ?     Ha,  ha !     Wliere  is  the  dead  ?  " 

Evelyn,  startled  by  the  words,  looked  up,  and  clung 
in  speechless  terror  to  Maltravers.  He  remained  rooted 
to  the  spot. 

"  Unhappy  man,"  said  he,  at  length,  and  soothingly, 
**  how  came  you  hither  ?  Fly  not ;  you  are  with 
friends. " 

"  Friends !  "  said  the  maniac,  with  a  scornful  laugh. 
"I  know  thee,  Ernest  Maltravers, — I  know  thee;  but 
it  is  not  thou  who  hast  locked  me  up  in  darkness  and  in 
hell,  side  by  side  with  the  mocking  fiend !  Friends !  — 
ah,  but  no  friends  shall  catch  me  now!  I  am  free,  — 
I  am  free!  Air  and  wave  are  not  more  free!  "  And 
the  madman  laughed  with  horrible  glee.  "  She  is  fair  — 
fair,"  he  said,  abruptly  checking  himself,  and  with  a 
changed  voice,  "  but  not  so  fair  as  the  dead.  Faithless 
that  thou  art,  —  and  yet  she  loved  thee  !  Woe  to  thee  ! 
—  woe — Maltravers,  the  perfidious!  Woe  to  thee,  and 
remorse,  —  and  shame  !  " 

"  Fear  not,  Evelyn,  —  fear  not, "  whispered  Maltra- 
vers, gently,  and  placing  her  behind  him ;  "  support  your 
courage,  — nothing  shall  harm  you." 


ALICE  ;   OR,    THE   MYSTERIES.  453 

Evelyn,  thougli  very  pale,  and  trembling  from  head  to 
foot,  retained  her  senses.  jMaltravers  advanced  towards 
the  madman.  But  no  sooner  did  the  quick  eye  of  the 
last  perceive  the  movement  than,  with  the  fear  which 
belongs  to  that  dread  disease,  —  the  fear  of  losing  liberty, 
—  he  turned,  and  with  a  loud  cry,  fled  into  the  wood. 
Maltravers  leaped  over  the  fence,  and  pursued  him  some 
way  in  vain.  The  thick  copses  of  the  wood  snatched 
every  trace  of  the  fugitive  from  his  eye. 

Breathless  and  exhausted,  Maltravers  returned  to  the 
spot  where  he  had  left  Evelyn.  As  he  reached  it,  he 
saw  Teresa  and  her  husband  approaching  towards  him, 
and  Teresa's  merry  laugh  sounded  clear  and  musical  in 
the  racy  air.  The  sound  appalled  him;  he  hastened 
his  steps  to  Evelyn. 

"  Say  nothing  of  what  we  have  seen  to  Madame  de 
Montaigne,  I  beseech  you, "  said  he ;  "  I  will  explain  wdiy 
hereafter. " 

Evelyn,  too  overcome  to  speak,  nodded  her  acquies- 
cence. They  joined  the  De  Montaignes,  and  Maltravers 
took  the  Frenchman  aside. 

But  before  he  could  address  him,  De  Montaigne  said, 

"  Hush  !  do  not  alarm  my  wife,  —  she  knows  nothing ; 
but  I  have  just  heard  at  Paris  that  —  that  he  has 
escaped :  you  know  whom  I  mean  1  " 

"I  do;  he  is  at  hand.  Send  in  search  of  him!  I 
have  seen  him !  Once  more  I  have  seen  Castruccio 
Cesarini!  " 


BOOK  IX. 

A7  al  •  rdS'  ^Srj  5ia(pai'rj.  —  SoPH.  :   (Edip.  Tyran.  754. 
Woe,  woe :  all  things  are  clear. 


BOOK   IX. 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  privilege  that  statesmen  ever  claim, 
Who  private  interest  never  yet  pursued, 
But  still  pretended  't  was  for  others'  good. 

From  hence  on  every  humorous  wind  that  veered 
With  shifted  sails  a  several  course  you  steered. 

Absalom  and  Achitophel,  Part  IL 

Lord  Vargrave  had  for  more  than  a  fortnight  remained 

at  the  inn  at  M ,  too  ill  to  be  removed  with  safety 

in  a  season  so  severe.  Even  when  at  last,  by  easy 
stages,  he  reached  London,  he  was  subjected  to  a  re- 
lapse ;  and  his  recovery  was  slow  and  gradual.  Hitherto 
unused  to  sickness,  he  bore  his  confinement  with  extreme 
impatience,  and  against  the  commands  of  his  physician, 
insisted  on  continuing  to  transact  his  official  business,  and 
consult  with  his  political  friends  in  his  sick-room;  for 
Lumley  knew  well  that  it  is  most  pernicious  to  public 
men  to  be  considered  failing  in  health :  turkeys  are  not 
more  unfeeling  to  a  sick  brother  than  politicians  to  an 
ailing  statesman ;  they  give  out  that  his  head  is  touched, 
and  see  paralysis  and  epilepsy  in  every  speech  and  every 
despatch.  The  time,  too,  nearly  ripe  for  his  great 
schemes,  made  it  doubly  necessary  that  he  should  exert 
himself,  and  prevent  being  shelved  with  a  plausible  ex- 
cuse of  tender  compassion  for  his  infirmities.  As  soon, 
therefore,  as  he  learned  that  Legard  had  left  Paris,  he 


458  ALICE;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES. 

tlioiight  himself  safe  for  a  while  in  that  quarter,  and  sur. 
rendered  his  thoughts  wholly  to  his  ambitious  projects. 
Perhaps,  too,  with  the  susceptible  vanity  of  a  middle- 
aged  man,  Avho  has  had  his  bonnes  fortunes,  Lumley 
deemed,  with  Rousseau,  that  a  lover  pale  and  haggard  — 
just  raised  from  the  bed  of  suffering  —  is  more  interesting 
to  friendship  than  attractive  to  love.  He  and  Kousseau 
were,  I  believe,  both  mistaken ;  but  that  is  a  matter  of 
opinion.  They  both  thought  very  coarsely  of  women,  — • 
one  from  having  no  sentiment,  and  the  other  from  hav- 
ing a  sentiment  that  was  but  a  disease.  At  length,  just 
as  Lumley  was  sufficiently  recovered  to  quit  his  house, 
to  appear  at  his  office,  and  declare  that  his  illness 
had  wonderfully  improved  his  constitution,  intelligence 
from  Paris,  the  more  startling  from  being  wholly  unex- 
pected, reached  him.  Prom  Caroline  he  learned  that 
Maltravers  had  proposed  to  Evelyn,  and  been  accepted. 
Prom  Maltravers  himself  he  heard  the  confirmation  of 
the  news.  The  last  letter  was  short,  but  kind  and  manly. 
He  addressed  Lord  Vargrave  as  Evelyn's  guardian, 
slightly  alluded  to  the  scruples  he  had  entertained  tiU 
Lord  Vargrave's  suit  was  broken  off,  and  feeling  the 
subject  too  delicate  for  a  letter,  expressed  a  desire  to 
confer  with  Lumley  respecting  Evelyn's  wishes  as  to 
certain  arrangements  in  her  property. 

And  for  this  was  it  that  Lumley  had  toiled!  for  this 
had  he  visited  Lisle  Court!  and  for  this  had  he  been 
stricken  down  to  the  bed  of  pain !  Was  it  only  to  make 
his  old  rival  the  purchaser,  if  he  so  pleased  it,  of  the 
possessions  of  his  own  family  ?  Lumley  thought  at  that 
moment  less  of  Evelyn  than  of  Lisle  Court.  As  he 
woke  from  the  stupor  and  the  first  fit  of  rage  into  which 
these  epistles  cast  him,  the  recollection  of  the  story  he 
had  heard  from  Mr.  Onslow  flashed  across  him.     Were 


ALICE,-   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  459 

his  suspicions  true,  what  a  secret  he  would  possess !  How 
fate  might  yet  befriend  liim!  Not  a  moment  was  to  he 
lost.  Weak,  suffering,  as  he  still  was,  he  ordered  hia 
carriage,  and  hastened  down  to  Mrs.  Leslie. 

In  the  interview  that  took  place,  he  was  careful  not  to 
alarm  her  into  discretion.  He  managed  the  conference 
with  his  usual  consummate  dexterity.  He  did  not  ap- 
pear to  believe  that  there  had  been  any  actual  connection 
between  Alice  and  the  supposed  Butler.  He  began  by 
simply  asking  whether  Alice  had  ever,  in  early  life,  been 
acquainted  with  a  person  of  that  name,  and  when  resid- 
ing in  the  neighborhood  of ?  The  change  of  counte- 
nance, the  surprised  start,  of  Mrs.  Leslie  convinced  him 
that  his  suspicions  were  true. 

"  And  why  do  you  ask,  my  lord  1  "  said  the  old  lady. 
"  Is  it  to  ascertain  this  point  that  you  have  done  me  the 
honor  to  visit  me  1  " 

"  Not  exactly,  my  dear  madam, "  said  Lumley,  smil- 
ing.    "  But    I    am   going   to   C on  business ;  and, 

besides  that  I  wished  to  give  an  account  of  your  health 
to  Evelyn,  whom  I  shall  shortly  see  at  Paris,  I  certainly 
did  desire  to  know  whether  it  would  be  any  gratifi- 
cation to  Lady  Vargrave,  for  whom  I  have  the  deepest 
regard,  to  renew  her  acquaintance  with  the  said  Mr. 
Butler." 

"  What  does  your  lordship  know  of  him  ?  Wliat  is 
he  ?     Who  is  he  1  " 

"  Ah,  my  dear  lady !  you  turn  the  tables  on  me,  I  see, 
—  for  my  one  question  you  would  give  me  fifty.  But 
seriously,  before  I  answer  you,  you  must  tell  me  whether 
Lady  Vargrave  does  know  a  gentleman  of  that  name; 
yet,  indeed,  to  save  trouble,  I  may  as  well  inform  you 
that  I  know  it  was  under  that  name  that  she  resided  at 
C ,  when  my  poor  uncle  first  made  her  acquaintance. 


460  aijce;  or,  the  mysteries. 

What  I  ought  to  ask  is  this, —  supposing  Mr.  Butler  he 
still  alive,  and  a  gentleman  of  character  and  fortune,  would 
it  please  Lady  Vargrave  to  meet  with  him  once  more  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  tell  you, "  said  Mrs.  Leslie,  sinking  back  in 
her  chair,  much  embarrassed. 

"  Enough ;  I  shall  not  stir  further  in  the  matter. 
Glad  to  see  you  looking  so  well.  Fine  place, —  beau- 
tiful trees.     Any  commands  at  C ,  or  any  message 

for  Evelyn  ?  " 

Lumley  rose  to  depart. 

"  Stay, "  said  Mrs.  Leslie,  recalling  all  the  pining, 
restless,  untiring  love  that  Lady  Vargrave  had  mani- 
fested towards  the  lost,  and  feeling  that  she  ought  not 
to  sacrifice  to  slight  scruples  the  chance  of  happiness  for 
her  friend's  future  years,  —  "  stay ;  I  think  this  question 
you  should  address  to  Lady  Vargrave,  or  shall  I  ?  " 

"  As  you  will ;  perhaps  /  had  better  write.  Good- 
day  ;  "  and  Vargrave  hurried  away. 

He  had  satisfied  himself,  but  he  had  another  yet  to 
satisfy,  —  and  that,  from  certain  reasons  known  but  to 
himself,  without   bringing   the   third   person  in  contact 

with  Lady  Vargrave.      On  arriving  at  C he  wrote, 

therefore,  to  Lady  Vargrave  as  follows :  — 

My  dear  Friend,  —  Do  not  think  me  impertinent  or  in- 
trusive—  but  you  know  me  too  well  for  that.  A  gentleman 
of  the  name  of  Butler  is  exceedingly  anxious  to  ascertain  if 

you  once  lived  near ,  in  a  pretty  little  cottage,  —  Dove, 

or  Dale,  or  Dell  Cottage  (some  such  appellation), — and  if 
you  remember  a  person  of  bis  name  ?  Should  you  care  to  give 
a  reply  to  these  queries,  send  me  a  line  addressed  to  London, 
which  I  shall  get  on  my  way  to  Paris. 

Yours  most  truly,  -57- 

•"  VARGRAVE. 

As  soon  as  he  had  concluded  and  despatched  this  letter, 
Vargrave  wrote  to  Mr.  Winsley  as  follows :  — 


ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  401 

My  dear  Sir,  —  I  am  so  unwell  as  to  he  unable  to  call  on 
•you,  or  even  to  see  any  one,  however  aji^reeable  (naj',  the  more 
agreeable,  the  more  excitinj;).     I  hope,  however,  to  renew  our 

personal   acquaintance   before   quitting    C .      Meanwhile, 

oblige  me  with  a  line  to  say  if  I  did  not  understand  you  to 
signify  that  you  could,  if  necessary,  prove  that  Lady  Vargrave 
once  resided  in  this  town  as  Mrs.  Butler,  a  very  short  time 
before  she  married  my  uncle,  under  the  name  of  Cameron,  in 
Devonshire  ;  and  had  she  not  also  at  that  time  a  little  girl,  — 
an  infant,  or  nearly  so,  —  who  must  necessarily  be  the  young 
lady  who  is  my  uncle's  heiress.  Miss  Evelyn  Cameron  ?  ^My 
reason  for  thus  troubling  you  is  obvious.  As  Miss  Cameron's 
guardian,  I  have  very  shortly  to  wind  up  certain  affairs  con- 
nected with  my  uncle's  will ;  and,  what  is  more,  there  is  some 
property  bequeathed  by  the  late  Mr.  Butler,  which  may  make 
it  necessary  to  prove  identity. 

Truly  yours, 

Vargrave. 

The  answer  to  the  latter  communication  ran  thus :  — 

My  Lord,  —  I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  your  lordship  is  so 
unwell,  and  wUl  pay  my  respects  to-morrow.  I  certainly  can 
swear  that  the  present  Lady  Vargrave  was  the  Mrs.  Butler 

who  resided  at  C ,  and  taught  music.     And  as  the  child 

with  her  was  of  the  same  sex  and  about  the  same  age  as  Miss 
Cameron,  there  can,  I  should  think,  be  no  difficulty  in  estab- 
lishing the  identity  between  that  young  lady  and  the  child 
Lady  Vargrave  had  by  her  first  husband,  Mr.  Butler ;  but  of 
this,  of  course,  L  cannot  speak . 

I  have  the  honor,  etc.,  etc. 

The  next  morning  Vargrave  despatched  a  note  to  l\Ir. 
Winsley,  saying  that  his  health  required  him  to  return 
to  town  immediately ;  and  to  town,  in  fact,  he  hastened. 
The  day  after  his  arrival,  he  received,  in  a  hurried  hand, 
—  strangely  blurred  and  blotted,  perhaps  by  tears, —  this 
short  letter :  — 


462  ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

For  Heaven's  sake,  tell  me  what  you  mean !  Yes,  yes  !  I 
did  once  reside  at  Dale  Cottage;  I  did  know  one  of  the  name 
of  Butler  I  Has  he  discovered  the  name  /  bear  ?  Where  is  he  ? 
I  implore  you  to  write,  or  let  me  see  you  before  you  leave 

^"S^^^^'  Alice  Varqrave. 

Lumley  smiled  triumphantly  when,  he  read,  and  care- 
fully put  up,  this  letter. 

"  I  must  now  amuse  and  put  her  off,  —  at  all  events, 
for  the  present." 

In  answer  to  Lady  Vargrave's  letter,  he  wrote  a  few 
lines  to  say  that  he  had  only  heard  through  a  third 
person  (a  lawyer)  of  a  Mr.  Butler  residing  somewhere 
abroad,  who  had  wished  these  inquiries  to  be  made; 
that  he  believed  it  only  related  to  some  disposition  of 
property;  that  perhaps  the  Mr.  Butler  who  made  the 
inquiry  was  heir  to  the  Mr.  Butler  she  had  known ;  that 
he  could  learn  nothing  else  at  present,  as  the  purport 
of  her  reply  must  be  sent  abroad,  —  the  lawyer  would  or 
could  say  nothing  more ;  that  directly  he  received  a  fur- 
ther communication  it  should  be  despatched  to  her;  that 
he  was  most  affectionately  and  most  truly  hers. 

The  rest  of  that  morning  Vargrave  devoted  to  Lord 
Saxingham  and  his  allies;  and  declaring,  and  believing, 
that  he  should  not  be  long  absent  at  Paris,  he  took  an 
early  dinner,  and  was  about  once  more  to  commit  himself 
to  the  risks  of  travel,  when,  as  he  crossed  the  hall,  Mr. 
Douce  came  hastily  upon  him. 

"  My  lord  —  my  lord  —  I  must  have  a  word  with  your 
1-1-lordship ;  you  are  going  to  —  that  is, "  and  the  little 
man  looked  frightened,  —  "  you  intend  to  —  to  go  to  — 
that  is  —  ab-ab-ab  —  " 

"Not  abscond,  Mr.  Douce;  come  into  the  library. 
I  am  in  a  great  hurry,  but  I  have  always  time  for  you. 
What 's  the  matter?  " 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  463 

"  Why,  then,  my  lord  —  I  —  I  have  heard  nothing 
m-m-more  from  your  lordship  about  the  pur-pur  —  " 

"  Purchase  ?  I  am  going  to  Paris,  to  settle  all  particu- 
lars with  Miss  Cameron;  tell  the  lawyers  so." 

"  May  —  may  —  we  draw  out  the  money  to  —  to  — 
show  —  that  —  that  we  are  in  earnest  ?    Otherwise  I  fear 

—  that  is,  I  suspect  —  I  mean  I  know  that  Colonel  Mal- 
travers  will  be  off  the  bargain. " 

"  Why,  Mr.  Douce,  really  I  must  just  see  my  ward 
first;  but  you  shall  hear  from  me  in  a  day  or  two;  and 
the  ten  thousand  pounds  I  owe  you!  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,  the  ten  —  ten  —  ten  —  my  partner  is 
very  —  " 

"  Anxious  for  it,  no  doubt !      My  compliments  to  him 

—  God  bless  you !  take  care  of  yourself  —  must  be  off 
to  save  the  packet ; "  and  Vargrave  hurried  away,  mut- 
tering, "  Heaven  sends  money,  and  the  Devil  sends 
duns!" 

Douce  gasped  like  a  fish  for  breath  as  his  eyes  followed 
the  rapid  steps  of  Vargrave,  and  there  was  an  angry 
scowl  of  disappointment  on  his  small  features.  Lumley, 
by  this  time  seated  in  his  carriage  and  wrapped  up  in  his 
cloak,  had  forgotten  the  creditor's  existence,  and  whis- 
pered to  his  aristocratic  secretary,  as  he  bent  his  head 
out  of  the  carriage  window,  "  I  have  told  Lord  Saxingham 
to  despatch  you  to  me,  if  there  is  any,  the  least  neces- 
sity for  me  in  London.  I  leave  you  behind,  Howard, 
because  your  sister  being  at  court,  and  your  cousin  with 
our  notable  premier,  you  will  find  out  every  change  in 
the  wind,  —  you  understand.  And  I  say,  Howard,  don't 
think  I  forget  your  kmdness!  You  know  that  no 
man  ever  served  me  in  vain.  Oh,  there  's  that  horrid 
little  Douce  behind  you!     Tell  them  to  drive  on." 


4G4  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER   II. 

Heard  you  that  ? 
What  prodigy  of  horror  is  disclosing  ? 

LiLLO :  Fatal  Curiosity, 

The  unhappy  companion  of  Cesarini's  flight  was  soon 
discovered  and  recaptured;  but  all  search  for  Cesarini 
Tiimself  proved  ineffectual,  not  only  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  St.  Cloud,  but  in  the  surrounding  country  and 
in  Paris.  The  only  comfort  was  in  thinking  that  his 
watch  would  at  least  preserve  him  for  some  time  from 
the  horrors  of  want;  and  that  by  the  sale  of  the  trinket 
he  might  be  traced.  The  police,  too,  were  set  at  work, 
—  the  vigilant  police  of  Paris!  Still,  day  rolled  on 
day,  and  no  tidings.  The  secret  of  the  escape  was  care- 
fully concealed  from  Teresa;  and  public  cares  were  a 
sufficient  excuse  for  the  gloom  on  De  Montaigne's 
brow. 

Evelyn  heard  from  Maltravers,  with  mingled  emo- 
tions of  compassion,  grief,  and  awe,  the  gloomy  tale 
connected  with  the  history  of  the  maniac.  She  wept 
for  the  fate  of  Florence;  she  shuddered  at  the  curse 
that  had  fallen  on  Cesarini;  and  perhaps  Maltravers 
grew  dearer  to  her  from  the  thought  that  there  was  so 
much  in  the  memories  of  the  past  that  needed  a  com- 
forter and  a  soother. 

They  returned  to  Paris,  affianced  and  plighted  lovers; 
and  then  it  was  that  Evelyn  sought  carefully  and  reso- 
lutely to  banish  from  her  mind  all  recollection,  all 
regret,  of  the  absent  Legard :  she  felt  the  solemnity  of 


ALICE  ;   OR,    THE    MYSTERIES.  465 

the  trust  confided  in  her,  and  she  resolved  that  no 
thought  of  hers  should  ever  be  of  a  nature  to  gall  the 
generous  and  tender  spirit  that  had  confided  its  life  of 
life  to  her  care.  The  influence  of  Maltravers  over  her 
increased  in  their  new  and  more  familiar  position;  and 
yet  still  it  partook  too  much  of  veneration,  — too  little 
of  passion;  but  that  might  be  her  innocence  and  youth. 
He,  at  least,  was  sensible  of  no  want,  — she  had  chosen 
him  from  the  world;  and  fastidious  as  he  deemed  him- 
self, he  reposed,  without  a  doubt,  on  the  security  of  her 
faith.  None  of  those  presentiments  which  had  haunted 
him  when  first  betrothed  to  Florence  disturbed  him 
now.  The  aff"ection  of  one  so  young  and  so  guileless 
seemed  to  bring  back  to  him  all  his  own  youth, — we 
are  ever  young  while  the  young  can  love  us.  Suddenly, 
too,  the  world  took,  to  his  eyes,  a  brighter  and  fairer 
aspect:  hope,  born  again,  reconciled  him  to  his  career 
and  to  his  race.  The  more  he  listened  to  Evelyn,  the 
more  he  watched  every  evidence  of  her  docile  but  gen- 
erous nature,  the  more  he  felt  assured  that  he  had  found 
at  last  a  heart  suited  to  his  own.  Her  beautiful  serenity 
of  temper,  cheerful,  yet  never  fitful  or  unquiet,  glad- 
dened him  with  its  insensible  contagion.  To  be  with 
Evelyn  was  like  basking  in  the  sunshine  of  some  happy 
sky.  It  was  an  inexpressible  charm  to  one  wearied 
Avith  "  the  hack  sights  and  sounds  "  of  this  jaded  world, 
to  watch  the  ever  fresh  and  sparkling  thoughts  and 
fancies  which  came  from  a  soul  so  new  to  life.  It  en- 
chanted one,  painfully  fastidious  in  what  relates  to  the 
true  nobility  of  character,  that,  however  various  the 
themes  discussed,  no  low  or  mean  thought  ever  sullied 
those  beautiful  lips.  It  was  not  the  mere  innocence  of 
inexperience,  but  the  moral  incapability  of  guile,  that 
charmed  him  in  the  companion  he  had  chosen  on  his 

30 


466  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

path  to  eternity.  He  was  also  delighted  to  notice 
Evelyn's  readiness  of  resources:  she  had  that  faculty 
without  whicli  woman  has  no  independence  from  the 
world,  no  pledge  that  domestic  retirement  will  not 
soon  languish  into  wearisome  monotony ,  —  the  faculty 
of  making  trifles  contribute  to  occupation  or  amusement; 
she  was  easily  pleased,  and  yet  she  so  soon  reconciled 
herself  to  disappointment.  He  felt,  and  chid  his  own 
dulness  for  not  feeling  it  before,  that,  young  and  sur- 
passingly lovely  as  she  was,  she  required  no  stimulant 
from  the  heated  pursuits  and  the  hollow  admiration  of 
the  crowd. 

"Such,"  thought  he,  "are  the  natures  that  alone  can 
preserve  through  years  the  poetry  of  the  first  passionate 
illusion;  that  can  alone  render  wedlock  the  seal  that 
confirms  aff"ection,  and  not  the  mocking  ceremonial  that 
vainly  consecrates  its  grave!  " 

Maltravers,  as  we  have  seen,  formally  wrote  to  Lumley 
some  days  after  their  return  to  Paris.  He  would  have 
written  also  to  Lady  Vargrave ;  but  Evelyn  thought  it 
best  to  prepare  her  mother  by  a  letter  from  herself. 

Miss  Cameron  now  wanted  but  a  few  weeks  to  the 
age  of  eighteen,  at  which  she  was  to  be  the  sole  mistress 
of  her  own  destiny.  On  arriving  at  that  age,  the  mar- 
riage was  to  take  place.  Valerie  heard  with  sincere 
delight  of  the  new  engagement  her  friend  had  formed. 
She  eagerly  sought  every  opportunity  to  increase  her 
intimacy  with  Evelyn,  who  was  completely  won  by  her 
graceful  kindness.  The  result  of  Valerie's  examination 
was  that  she  did  not  wonder  at  the  passionate  love  of 
Maltravers ;  but  that  her  deep  knowledge  of  the  human 
heart  (that  knowledge  so  remarkable  in  the  women  of 
her  country !)  made  her  doubt  how  far  it  was  adequately 
returned,  —  how  far  Evelyn  deceived  herself.     Her  first 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  467 

satisfaction  became  mingled  with  anxiety ;  and  she  relied 
more  for  the  future  felicity  of  her  friend  on  Evelyn's 
purity  of  thought  and  general  tenderness  of  heart  than 
on  the  exclusiveness  and  ardor  of  her  love.  Alas !  few 
at  eighteen  are  not  too  young  for  the  irrevocable  step; 
and  Evelyn  was  younger  than  her  years.  One  evening, 
at  Madame  de  Ventadour's,  Maltravers  asked  Evelyn  if 
she  had  yet  heard  from  Lady  Vargrave.  Evelyn  ex- 
pressed her  surprise  that  she  had  not,  and  the  conversa- 
tion fell,  as  was  natural,  upon  Lady  Vargrave  herself. 
"  Is  she  as  fond  of  music  as  you  are  1  "  asked  Maltravers. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  I  think  so,  — and  of  the  songs  of  a  cer- 
tain person  in  particular;  they  always  had  for  her  an 
indescribable  charm.  Often  have  I  heard  her  say  that 
to  read  your  writings  was  like  talking  to  an  early  friend. 
Your  name  and  genius  seemed  to  make  her  solitary  con- 
nection with  the  great  world.  Nay,  —  but  you  will  not 
be  angry, —  I  half  think  it  was  her  enthusiasm,  so  strange 
and  rare,  that  first  taught  me  interest  in  yourself." 

"  I  have  a  double  reason,  then,  for  loving  your  mother," 
said  Maltravers,  much  pleased  and  flattered.  "  And  does 
she  not  like  Italian  music  1  " 

"  Not  much ;  she  prefers  some  rather  old-fashioned 
German  airs, — very  simple,  but  very  touching." 

"My  own  early  passion,"  said  Maltravers,  more  and 
more  interested. 

"  But  there  are,  also,  one  or  two  English  songs  which 
I  have  occasionally,  but  very  seldom,  heard  her  sing. 
One  in  especial  affects  her  so  deeply,  even  when  she 
plays  the  air,  that  I  have  always  attached  to  it  a  certain 
mysterious  sanctity.  I  should  not  like  to  sing  it  before 
a  crowd;  but  to-morrow,  when  you  call  on  me,  and  we 
are  alone  —  " 

"  Ah,  to-morrow  I  will  not  fail  to  remind  you." 


468  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

Their  conversation  ceased;  yet  somehow  or  other, 
that  night,  when  he  retired  to  rest,  the  recollection  of 
it  haunted  Mai tra vers.  He  felt  a  vague,  unaccountable 
curiosity  respecting  this  secluded  and  solitary  mother; 
all  concerning  her  early  fate  seemed  so  wrapped  in  mys- 
tery. Cleveland,  in  reply  to  his  letter,  had  informed 
him  that  all  inquiries  respecting  the  birth  and  first 
marriage  of  Lady  Vargrave  had  failed.  Evelyn  evi- 
dently knew  but  little  of  either,  and  he  felt  a  certain 
delicacy  in  pressing  questions  which  might  be  ascribed 
to  the  inquisitiveness  of  a  vulgar  family  pride.  More- 
over, lovers  have  so  much  to  say  to  each  other  that  he 
had  not  yet  found  time  to  talk  at  length  to  Evelyn 
about  third  persons.  He  slept  ill  that  night, — dark 
and  boding  dreams  disturbed  his  slumber.  He  rose 
late,  and  dejected  by  presentiments  he  could  not  mas- 
ter; his  morning  meal  was  scarcely  over,  and  he  had 
already  taken  his  hat  to  go  to  Evelyn's  for  comfort  and 
sunshine,  when  the  door  opened,  and  he  was  surprised 
by  the  entrance  of  Lord  Vargrave. 

Lumley  seated  himself  with  a  formal  gravity  very 
unusual  to  him,  and  as  if  anxious  to  waive  unneces- 
sary explanations,  began  as  follows,  with  a  serious  and 
impressive  voice  and  aspect:  — 

"  Maltravers,  of  late  years  we  have  been  estranged 
from  each  other;  I  do  not  presume  to  dictate  to  you 
your  friendships  or  your  dislikes.  Why  this  estrange- 
ment has  happened  you  alone  can  determine.  For  my 
part,  I  am  conscious  of  no  offence;  that  which  I  was,  I 
am  still.  It  is  you  who  have  changed.  Wliether  it  be 
the  difference  of  our  political  opinions,  or  any  other  and 
more  secret  cause,  I  know  not.  T  lament,  but  it  is  now 
too  late  to  attempt  to  remove  it.  If  you  suspect  me  of 
ever  seeking,  or  even  wishing  to  sow  dissension  between 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  469 

yourself  and  my  ill-fated  cousin,  now  no  more,  you  are 
mistaken.  I  ever  sought  the  happiness  and  the  union 
of  you  both.  And  yet,  Maltravers,  you  then  came  be- 
tween me  and  an  early  and  cherished  dream.  But  I 
suffered  in  silence;  my  course  was  at  least  disinter- 
ested, perhaps  generous:  let  it  pass.  A  second  time 
you  cross  my  path,  —  you  win  from  me  a  heart  I  had 
long  learned  to  consider  mine.  You  have  no  scruple 
of  early  friendship;  you  have  no  forbearance  towards 
acknowledged  and  affianced  ties.  You  are  my  rival 
with  Evelyn  Cameron,  and  your  suit  has  prospered." 

"Vargrave,"  said  Maltravers,  "you  have  spoken 
frankly;  and  T  will  reply  with  an  equal  candor.  A 
difference  of  tastes,  tempers,  and  opinions  led  us  long 
since  into  opposite  paths.  I  am  one  who  cannot  dis- 
unite public  morality  from  private  virtue.  From  mo- 
tives best  known  to  you,  but  which  I  say  openly  I  hold 
to  have  been  those  of  interest  or  ambition,  you  did  not 
change  your  opinions  (there  is  no  sin  in  that) ,  but 
retaining  them  in  private,  professed  others  in  public, 
and  played  with  the  destinies  of  mankind  as  if  they 
were  but  counters  to  mark  a  mercenary  game.  This  led 
me  to  examine  your  character  with  more  searching  eyes; 
and  T  found  it  one  I  could  no  longer  trust.  With  re- 
spect to  the  dead,  —  let  the  pall  drop  over  that  early 
grave,  —  I  acquit  you  of  all  blame.  He  who  sinned  has 
suffered  more  than  would  atone  the  crime.  You  charge 
me  with  my  love  to  Evelyn.  Pardon  me;  but  I 
seduced  no  affection,  I  have  broken  no  tie.  Kot  till 
she  was  free,  in  heart  and  in  hand,  to  choose  between 
us,  did  I  hint  at  love.  Let  me  think  that  a  way  may 
be  found  to  soften  one  portion  at  least  of  the  disappoint- 
ment you  cannot  but  feel  acutely." 

"  Stay !  "    said   Lord   Vargrave    (who ,    plunged    in   a 


470  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

gloomy  reverie,  had  scarcely  seemed  to  hear  the  last  few 
sentences  of  his  rival),  —  "  stay,  Maltravers.  Speak  not 
of  love  to  Evelyn!  A  horrible  foreboding  tells  me  that, 
a  few  hours  hence,  you  Avould  rather  pluck  out  your 
tongue  by  the  roots  than  couple  the  words  of  love  with 
the  thought  of  that  unfortunate  girl  I  Oh,  if  I  were 
vindictive,  what  awful  triumph  would  await  me  now! 
What  retaliation  on  your  harsh  judgment,  your  cold 
contempt,  your  momentary  and  wretched  victory  over 
me !  Heaven  is  my  witness  that  my  only  sentiment  is 
that  of  terror  and  woe!  Maltravers,  in  your  earliest 
youth,  did  you  form  connection  with  one  whom  they 
called  Alice  Darvil  ?  " 

"  Alice !     Merciful  Heaven !  what  of  her  ?  " 

"  Did  you  never  know  that  the  Christian  name  of 
Evelyn's  mother  is  Alice  1  " 

"  1  never  asked  —  I  never  knew ;  but  it  is  a  common 
name,"  faltered  Maltravers. 

"Listen   to   me,"   resumed    Vargrave;    "with   Alice 

Darvil  you   lived   in   the   neighborhood   of  ,    did. 

you  not?"  . 

"  Go  on ;   go  on !  " 

**  You  took  the  name  of  Butler;  by  that  name  Alice 
Darvil  was  afterwards  known  in  the  town  in  which  my 
uncle  resided  (there  are  gaps  in  the  history  that  I  cannot 
of  my  own  knowledge  fill  up);  she  taught  music;  my 
uncle  became  enamoured  of  her,  —  but  he  was  vain  and 
worldly.  She  removed  into  Devonshire,  and  he  mar- 
ried her  there,  under  the  name  of  Cameron,  by  which 
name  he  hoped  to  conceal  from  the  world  the  lowness 
of  her  origin,  and  the  humble  calling  she  had  followed. 
—  Hold !  do  not  interrupt  me.  Alice  had  one  daughter, 
as  was  supposed,  by  a  former  marriage;  that  daughter 
was    the   offspring   of    him    whose   name    she   bore,  — 


ALICE;   OK,   THE   MYSTERIES.  471 

yes,  of  the  false  Butler!  That  daughter  is  Evelyn 
Cameron !  " 

"Liar!  devil!"  cried  Mai  travels,  springing  to  his 
feet,  as  if  a  shot  had  pierced  his  heart.  "Proofs, 
proofs !  " 

"  Will  these  suffice?  "  said  Vargrave,  as  he  drew  forth 
the  letters  of  Winsley  and  Lady  Vargrave.  Maltravers 
took  them,  but  it  was  some  moments  before  he  could 
dare  to  read.  He  supported  himself  with  difficulty  from 
falling  to  the  ground;  there  was  a  gurgle  in  his  throat, 
like  the  sound  of  the  death-rattle.  At  last  he  read,  and 
dropped  the  letters  from  his  hand. 

"  Wait  me  here,"  he  said  very  faintly,  and  moved 
mechanically  to  the  door. 

"Hold!"  said  Lord  Vargrave,  laying  his  hand  upon 
Ernest's  arm.  "  Listen  to  me  for  Evelyn's  sake, — for 
her  mother's.  You  are  about  to  seek  Evelyn;  be  it 
so!  I  know  that  you  possess  the  godlike  gift  of  self- 
control.  You  will  not  suffer  her  to  learn  that  her 
mother  has  done  that  which  dishonors  alike  mother  and 
child?  You  will  not  consummate  your  wrong  to  Alice 
Darvil  by  robbing  her  of  the  fruit  of  a  life  of  penitence 
and  remorse  ?  You  will  not  unveil  her  shame  to  her 
own  daughter?  Convince  yourself ,  and  master  yourself 
while  you  do  so." 

"  Fear  me  not,"  said  Maltravers,  with  a  terrible 
smile ;  "  I  will  not  afflict  my  conscience  with  a  double 
curse.  As  I  have  sowed,  so  must  I  reap.  Wait  me 
here!" 


472  ALICE;  OR,  THE   MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTEK    III. 

Misery, 
That  gathers  force  each  moment  as  it  roUs, 
And  must,  at  last,  o'erwhelm  me. 

LiLLO :  Fatal  Curiosity. 

Maltravers  found  Evelyn  alone.  She  turned  towards 
him  with  her  usual  sweet  smile  of  welcome;  but  the 
smile  vanished  at  once  as  her  eyes  met  his  changed  and 
working  countenance :  cold  drops  stood  upon  the  rigid 
and  marble  brow;  the  lips  writhed  as  if  in  bodily 
torture;  the  muscles  of  the  face  had  fallen,  and  there 
was  a  wildness  which  appalled  her  in  the  fixed  and 
feverish  brightness  of  the  eyes. 

"You  are  ill,  Ernest;  dear  Ernest,  you  are  ill: 
your  look  freezes  me!  " 

"Nay,  Evelyn,"  said  Maltravers,  recovering  himself 
by  one  of  those  efforts  of  which  men  who  have  suffered 
without  sympathy  are  alone  capable,  —  "  nay ,  I  am  better 
now.     I  have  been  ill,  —  very  ill,  —  but  T  am  better." 

"111!  and  I  not  to  know  of  it!  "  She  attempted  to 
take  his  hand  as  she  spoke.     Maltravers  recoiled. 

"  It  is  fire!  it  burns!  avaunt!  "  he  cried  frantically. 
"  0  Heaven!  spare  me,  spare  me!  " 

Evelyn  was  now  seriously  alarmed;  she  gazed  on 
him  with  the  tenderest  compassion.  Was  this  one  of 
those  moody  and  overwhelming  paroxysms  to  which  it 
had  been  whispered  abroad  that  he  was  subject  ?  Strange 
as  it  may  seem,  despite  her  terror,  he  was  dearer  to  her 
in  that  hour  —  as  she  believed,  of  gloom  and  darkness 


ALICE  ;  OR,   THE    MYSTERIES.  473 

—  than  In  all  the  glory  of  his  majestic  intellect,  or  all 
the  blandishments  of  liis  soft  address. 

"  What  has  happened  to  you  1  "  she  said ,  approaching 
him  again.  "  Have  you  seen  Lord  Vargrave  1  I  know 
that  he  has  arrived,  for  his  servant  has  been  here  to  say 
so.  Has  he  uttered  anything  to  distress  you,  or  has," 
she  added,  falteringly  and  timidly, — "  has  poor  Evelyn 
offended  youl     Speak  to  me,  only  speak!  " 

Maltravers  turned,  and  his  face  was  now  calm  and 
serene ;  save  by  its  extreme  and  almost  ghastly  paleness, 
no  trace  of  the  hell  within  him  could  be  discovered. 

"Pardon  rae,"  said  he,  gently,  "I  know  not  this 
morning  what  I  say  or  do.  Think  not  of  it,  —  think 
not  of  me;  it  will  pass  away  when  I  hear  your  voice." 

"  Shall  I  sing  to  you  the  words  I  spoke  of  last  night  1 
See,  I  have  them  ready:  I  know  them  by  heart;  but 
I  thought  you  might  like  to  read  them,  they  are  so  full 
of  simple  but  deep  feeling." 

Maltravers  took  the  song  from  her  hands,  and  bent 
over  the  paper.  At  first  the  letters  seemed  dim  and  in- 
distinct, for  there  was  a  mist  before  his  eyes;  but  at 
last  a  chord  of  memory  was  struck,  —  he  recalled  the 
words:  they  were  some  of  those  he  had  composed  for 
Alice  in  the  first  days  of  their  delicious  intercourse,  — 
links  of  the  golden  chain  in  which  he  had  sought  to 
bind  the  spirit  of  knowledge  to  that  of  love. 

"  And  from  whom,"  said  he,  in  a  faint  voice,  as  he 
calmly  put  down  the  verses,  — "  from  whom  did  your 
mother  learn  these  words  1  " 

"  I  know  not;  some  dear  friend,  years  ago,  composed 
and  gave  them  to  her.  It  must  have  been  one  very  dear 
to  her,  to  judge  by  the  effect  they  still  produce." 

"  Think  you,"  said  Maltravers,  in  a  hollow  voice,  — 
"  think  you  it  was  youb  father  1  " 


474  ALICE  ;   OK,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

"  My  fatlier !  —  she  never  speaks  of  him.  I  have 
been  early  taught  to  shun  all  allusion  to  his  memory. 
My  father!  —  it  is  probable.  Yes;  it  may  have  been 
my  father;  whom  else  could  she  have  loved  so  fondly?  " 

There  was  a  long  silence;  Evelyn  was  the  first  to 
break  it. 

"  I  have  heard  from  my  mother  to-day,  Ernest;  her 
letter  alarms  me,  —  I  scarce  know  why." 

"  Ay !  —  and  how  —  " 

"It  is  hurried  and  incoherent,  —  almost  wild;  she 
says  she  has  learned  some  intelligence  that  has  unsettled 
and  unstrung  her  mind ;  she  has  requested  me  to  inquire 
if  any  one  I  am  acquainted  with  has  heard  of,  or  met 
abroad,  some  person  of  the  name  of  Butler.  You  start! 
Have  you  known  one  of  that  name  ?  " 

"  I !  Did  your  mother  never  allude  to  that  name 
before  1  " 

"  Never !     And  yet,  once  I  remember  —  " 

"What?" 

"  That  I  was  reading  an  account  in  the  papers  of  the 
sudden  death  of  some  Mr.  Butler;  and  her  agitation 
made  a  powerful  and  strange  impression  upon  me,  —  in 
fact,  she  fainted,  and  seemed  almost  delirious  when  she 
recovered;  she  would  not  rest  till  I  had  completed  the 
account,  and  when  I  came  to  the  particulars  of  his  age, 
etc.  (he  was  old,  I  think) ,  she  clasped  her  hands,  and 
wept,  but  they  seemed  tears  of  joy.  The  name  is  so 
common;  whom,  of  that  name,  have  you  known?  " 

"It  is  no  matter.  Is  that  your  mother's  letter? 
Is  that  her  handwriting  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  "  and  Evelyn  gave  the  letter  to  Maltravers. 
He  glanced  over  the  characters.  He  had  once  or  twice 
seen  Lady  Vargrave's  handwriting  before,  and  had  rec- 
ognized no  likeness  between  that  handwriting  and  sucb 


ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  475 

early  specimens  of  Alice's  art  as  he  had  witnessed  so 
many  years  ago;  but  now  —  "trifles  light  as  air"  had 
grown  "  confirmation  strong  as  proof  of  Holy  Writ "  —  he 
thought  he  detected  Alice  in  every  line  of  the  hurried 
and  blotted  scroll ;  and  when  his  eye  rested  on  the 
words,  "  Your  affectionate  mother,  Alice  !  "  his  blood 
curdled  in  his  veins. 

"It  is  strange!"  said  he,  still  struggling  for  self- 
composure  ;  "  strange  that  I  never  thought  of  asking  her 
name  before.     Alice  !  her  name  is  Alice?  " 

"A  sweet  name,  is  it  not?  It  accords  so  well  with 
her  simple  character,  —  how  you  would  love  her !  " 

As  she  said  this,  Evelyn  turned  to  Mai tra vers  with 
enthusiasm,  and  again  she  was  startled  by  his  aspect; 
for  again  it  was  haggard,  distorted,  and  convulsed. 

"  Oh,  if  you  love  me,"  she  cried,  "do  send  immedi- 
ately for  advice!  And  yet  is  it  illness,  Ernest,  or  is  it 
some  grief  that  you  hide  from  me  ?  " 

"  It  is  illness,  Evelyn,"  said  Maltravers,  rising;  and 
his  knees  knocked  together.  "  I  am  not  fit  even  for 
your  companionship ;  I  will  go  home. " 

"  And  send  instantly  for  advice  1  " 

"  Ay !  it  waits  me  there  already. " 

"  Thank  Heaven !  and  you  will  write  to  me,  —  one 
little  word,  —  to  relieve  me  ?     I  am  so  uneasy !  " 

"  I  will  write  to  you. " 

"  This  evening  ?  " 

«  Ay !  " 

"  Now  go,  —  I  will  not  detain  you." 

He  walked  slowly  to  the  door;  but  when  he  reached 
it  he  turned,  and  catching  her  anxious  gaze,  he  opened 
his  arms.  Overpowered  with  strange  fear  and  affection- 
ate sympathy,  she  burst  into  passionate  tears;  and  sur- 
prised out  of  the  timidity  and  reserve  which  had  hith- 


476  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES. 

erto  characterized  her  pure  and  meek  attachment  to  him, 
she  fell  on  his  breast  and  sobbed  aloud.  Maltravers 
raised  his  hands,  and  placing  them  solemnly  on  her 
young  head,  his  lips  muttered  as  if  in  prayer.  He 
paused,  and  strained  her  to  his  heart;  but  he  shunned 
that  parting  kiss,  which  hitherto  he  had  so  fondly 
sought.  That  embrace  was  one  of  agony,  and  not  of 
rapture ;  and  yet  Evelyn  dreamed  not  that  he  designed 
it  for  the  last. 

Maltravers  re-entered  the  room  in  which  he  had  left 
Lord  Vargrave,  who  still  awaited  his  return. 

He  walked  up  to  Lumley,  and  held  out  his  hand. 
"  You  have  saved  me  from  a  dreadful  crime,  —  from  an 
everlasting  remorse.     I  thank  you!  " 

Hardened  and  frigid  as  his  nature  was,  Lumley  was 
touched;  the  movement  of  Maltravers  took  him  by 
surprise.  "It  has  been  a  dreadful  duty,  Ernest,"  said 
he,  pressing  the  hand  he  held;  "  but  to  come,  too,  from 
me,  —  your  rival !  " 

"Proceed,  proceed,  I  pray  you:  explain  all  this. 
Yet  explanation!  What  do  I  want  to  know?  Evelyn 
is  my  daughter,  —  Alice's  child!  Eor  Heaven's  sake, 
give  me  hope:  say  it  is  not  so,  — say  that  she  is  Alice's 
child,  but  not  mine!  Father,  father!  and  they  call  it 
a  holy  name,  —  it  is  a  horrible  one!  " 

"  Compose  yourself,  my  dear  friend :  recollect  what 
you  have  escaped!  You  will  recover  this  shock:  time, 
travel  —  " 

"  Peace ,  man ,  —  peace !  !N"ow ,  then ,  I  am  calm !  When 
Alice  left  me  she  had  no  child.  I  knew  not  that  she 
bore  within  her  the  pledge  of  our  ill-omened  and  erring 
love.  Verily,  the  sins  of  my  youth  have  risen  against 
me;  and  the  curse  has  come  home  to  roost!  " 

'•  I  cannot  explain  to  you  all  details. " 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  477 

"But  why  not  have  told  me  of  this?  Why  not 
have  warned  me?  Why  not  have  said  to  me,  when  my 
heart  could  have  heen  satisfied  by  so  sweet  a  tie,  *  Thou 
hast  a  daughter :  thou  art  not  desolate  ? '  Why  reserve 
the  knowledge  of  the  blessing  until  it  has  turned  to 
poison?  Fiend  that  you  are!  you  have  waited  this 
hour  to  gloat  over  the  agony  from  which  a  word  from 
you  a  year,  nay,  a  month  ago,  —  a  little  month  ago, — 
miglit  have  saved  me  and  her!  " 

Maltravers,  as  he  spoke,  approached  Vargrave  with 
eyes  sparkling  with  fierce  passion,  his  hand  clinched, 
his  form  dilated,  the  veins  on  his  forehead  swelled  like 
cords.     Lumley,  brave  as  he  was,  recoiled. 

"  I  knew  not  of  this  secret,"  said  he,  deprecatingly, 
"  till  a  few  days  before  I  came  hither;  and  I  came  hither 
at  once  to  disclose  it  to  you.  Will  you  listen  to  me  ? 
I  knew  that  my  uncle  had  married  a  person  much  be- 
neath him  in  rank ;  but  he  was  guarded  and  cautious, 
and  I  knew  no  more  except  that  by  a  first  husband  that 
lady  had  one  daughter,  —  Evelyn.  A  chain  of  accidents 
suddenly  acquainted  me  with  the  rest."  Here  Vargrave 
pretty  faithfully  repeated  what  he  had  learned  from  the 

brewer  at  C ,  and  from  Mr.  Onslow ;  but  when  he 

came  to  the  tacit  confirmation  of  all  his  suspicions,  re- 
ceived from  Mrs.  Leslie,  he  greatly  exaggerated  and 
greatly  distorted  the  account.  "  Judge,  then,"  con- 
cluded Lumley,  "  of  the  horror  with  which  I  heard  that 
you  had  declared  an  attachment  to  Evelyn,  and  that  it 
was  returned.  Ill  as  I  was,  I  hastened  hither;  you 
know  the  rest.     Are  you  satisfied  1  " 

"  I  will  go  to  Alice !  I  will  learn  from  her  own  lips 
—  yet  how  can  I  meet  her  again?  How  say  to  her,  *  I 
have  taken  from  thee  thy  last  hope,  — I  have  broken  thy 
child's  heart '  1  " 


478  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

"  Forgive  me;  but  I  should  confess  to  you  that,  from 
all  I  can  learn  from  Mrs.  Leslie,  Lady  Vargrave  has  but 
one  prayer,  one  hope  in  life,  —  that  she  may  never  again 
meet  with  her  betrayer.  You  may,  indeed,  in  her  own 
letter,  perceive  how  much  she  is  terrified  by  the  thought 
of  your  discovering  her.  She  has,  at  length,  recovered 
peace  of  mind  and  tranquillity  of  conscience.  She 
shrinks  with  dread  from  the  prospect  of  ever  again  en- 
countering one  once  so  dear,  now  associated  in  her  mind 
with  recollections  of  guilt  and  sorrow.  More  than  this, 
she  is  sensitively  alive  to  the  fear  of  shame,  the  dread 
of  detection.  If  ever  her  daughter  were  to  know  her 
sin,  it  would  be  to  her  as  a  death-blow.  Yet  in  her 
nervous  state  of  health,  her  ever-quick  and  uncontroll- 
able feelings,  if  you  were  to  meet  her  she  would  disguise 
nothing,  conceal  nothing.  The  veil  would  be  torn  aside: 
the  menials  in  her  own  house  would  tell  the  tale,  and 
curiosity  circulate,  and  scandal  blacken,  the  story  of  her 
early  errors.  No,  Maltravers;  at  least  wait  awhile 
before  you  see  her,  — wait  till  her  mind  can  be  prepared 
for  such  an  interview,  till  precautions  can  be  taken,  till 
you  yourself  are  in  a  calmer  state  of  mind." 

Maltravers  fixed  his  piercing  eyes  on  Lumley  while 
he  thus  spoke,  and  listened  in  deep  attention. 

"  It  matters  not,"  said  he,  after  a  long  pause,  "  whether 
these  be  your  real  reasons  for  wishing  to  defer  or  pre- 
vent a  meeting  between  Alice  and  myself.  The  afflic- 
tion that  has  come  upon  me  bursts  with  too  clear  and 
scorching  a  blaze  of  light  for  me  to  see  any  chance  of 
escape  or  mitigation.  Even  if  Evelyn  were  the  daugh- 
ter of  Alice  by  another,  she  would  be  forever  separated 
from  me.  The  mother  and  the  cnild!  there  is  a  kind  of 
incest  even  in  that  tliought.  But  such  an  alleviation  of 
my  anguish  is  furlndden  to  my  reason.     No,  poor  Alice  I 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  479 

I  will  not  disturb  the  repose  thou  hast  won  at  last. 
Thou  shalt  never  have  the  grief  to  know  that  our  error 
has  brought  upon  thy  lover  so  black  a  doom.  All  is 
over!  the  world  never  shall  find  me  again.  Nothing 
is  left  for  me  but  the  desert  and  the  grave." 

"Speak  not  so,  Ernest,"  said  Lord  Vargrave,  sooth- 
ingly; "  a  little  while,  and  you  will  recover  this  blow. 
Your  control  over  passion  has,  even  in  youth,  inspired  me 
with  admiration  and  surprise;  and  now,  in  calmer  years, 
and  with  such  incentives  to  self-mastery,  your  triumph 
will  come  sooner  than  you  think.  Evelyn,  too,  is  so 
young;  she  has  not  known  you  long:  perhaps  her  love, 
after  all,  is  that  caused  by  some  mystic  but  innocent 
working  of  nature,  and  she  would  rejoice  to  call  you 
*  father. '     Happy  years  are  yet  in  store  for  you. " 

Maltravers  did  not  listen  to  these  vain  and  hollow 
consolations.  With  his  head  drooping  on  his  bosom, 
his  whole  form  unnerved,  the  large  tears  rolling  un- 
heeded down  his  cheeks,  he  seemed  the  A^ery  picture  of 
the  broken-hearted  man,  whom  fate  never  again  could 
raise  from  despair.  He  who  had  for  years  so  cased 
himself  in  pride ;  on  whose  very  front  was  engraved  the 
victory  over  passion  and  misfortune ;  whose  step  had 
trod  the  earth  in  the  royalty  of  the  conqueror,  —  the 
veriest  slave  that  crawls  bore  not  a  spirit  more  humbled, 
fallen,  or  subdued.  He  who  had  looked  with  haughty 
eyes  on  the  infirmities  of  others;  who  had  disdained  to 
serve  his  race  because  of  their  human  follies  and  partial 
frailties,  —  he,  even  he,  the  Pharisee  of  Genius,  had 
but  escaped  by  a  chance,  and  by  the  hand  of  the  man  he 
suspected  and  despised,  from  a  crime  at  which  nature 
herself  recoils;  which  all  law,  social  and  divine,  stig- 
matizes as  inexpiable ;  which  the  sternest  imagination 
of  the  very  heathen  had  invented  as  the  gloomiest  catas- 


480  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

trophe  that  can  befall  the  wisdom  and  the  pride  of  mor- 
tals. But  one  step  farther,  and  the  fabulous  CEdipus 
had  not  been  more  accursed! 

Such  thoughts  as  these,  imformed,  confused,  but 
strong  enoiigh  to  bow  him  to  the  dust,  passed  through 
the  mind  of  this  wretched  man.  He  had  been  familiar 
with  grief;  he  had  been  dull  to  enjoyment;  sad  and 
bitter  memories  had  consumed  his  manhood;  but  pride 
had  been  left  him  still,  and  he  had  dared  in  his  secret 
heart  to  say,  "I  can  defy  fate!"  oSTow  the  bolt  had 
fallen:  pride  was  shattered  into  fragments;  self-abase- 
ment was  his  companion ;  shame  sat  upon  his  prostrate 
soul.  The  future  had  no  hope  left  in  store.  Nothing 
was  left  for  him  but  to  die. 

Lord  Vargrave  gazed  at  him  in  real  pain,  in  sincere 
compassion;  for  his  nature,  wily,  deceitful,  perfidious 
though  it  was,  had  cruelty  only  so  far  as  was  necessary 
to  the  unrelenting  execution  of  his  schemes.  No  pity 
could  swerve  him  from  a  purpose;  but  he  had  enough 
of  the  man  within  him  to  feel  pity  not  the  less,  even  for 
his  own  victim.  At  length  Maltravers  lifted  his  head, 
and  waved  his  hand  gently  to  Lord  Vargrave. 

"All  is  now  explained,"  said  he,  in  a  feeble  voice; 
"  our  interview  is  over.  I  must  be  alone ;  I  have  yet 
to  collect  my  reason,  to  commune  calmly  and  deliber- 
ately with  myself.  I  have  to  write  to  her,  to  invent, 
to  lie,  —  I,  who  believed  I  could  never,  never  utter,  even 
to  an  enemy,  what  was  false!  And  I  must  not  soften 
the  blow  to  her.  I  must  not  utter  a  word  of  love: 
love,  it  is  incest!  I  must  endeavor  brutally  to  crush 
out  the  very  affection  I  created!  She  must  hate  me! 
Oh,  teach  her  to  hate  me!  Blacken  my  name,  traduce 
my  motives,  —  let  her  believe  them  levity  or  perfidy, 
what  you  will.     So  will  she  forget  me  the  sooner;  so 


ALICE  ;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  481 

•will  she  the  easier  bear  the  sorrow  which  the  father 
brings  upon  the  child.  And  she  has  not  sinned! 
0  Heaven,  the  sin  was  mine!  Let  my  punishment 
be  a  sacrifice  that  thou  wilt  accept  for  her!  " 

Lord  Vargrave  attempted  again  to  console;  but  this 
time  the  words  died  upon  his  lips.  His  arts  failed  him. 
]VIaltravers  turned  impatiently  away  and  pointed  to  the 
door. 

"  I  will  see  you  again,"  said  he,  "  before  I  quit  Paris: 
leave  your  address  below. " 

Vargrave  was  not,  perhaps,  unwilling  to  terminate  a 
scene  so  painful ;  he  muttered  a  few  incoherent  words, 
and  abruptly  withdrew.  He  heard  the  door  locked  be- 
hind him  as  he  departed.  Ernest  Maltravers  was  alone; 
what  a  solitude! 


31 


482  ALICE;  OR,  THE   MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Pity  me  not,  but  lend  thy  serious  hearing 
To  what  I  shall  unfold. 

Hamlet. 

LETTER   FROM    ERNEST   MALTRAVERS   TO   EVELYN   CAMERON, 

Evelyn  !  —  All  that  you  have  read  of  faithlessness  and 
perfidy  will  seem  tame  to  you  when  compared  with  that  con- 
duct which  you  are  doomed  to  meet  from  me.  We  must  part, 
and  forever.  We  have  seen  each  other  for  the  last  time.  It 
is  bootless  even  to  ask  the  cause.  Believe  that  I  am  fickle, 
false,  heartless,  —  that  a  whim  has  changed  me,  —  if  you  will. 
My  resolve  is  unalterable.  We  meet  no  more,  even  as  friends. 
I  do  not  ask  you  either  to  forgive  or  to  remember  me.  Look 
on  me  as  one  wholly  unworthy  even  of  resentment.  Do  not 
think  that  I  write  this  in  madness,  or  in  fever,  or  excitement. 
Judge  me  not  by  my  seeming  illness  this  morning.  1  invent 
no  excuse,  no  extenuation,  for  my  broken  faith  and  perjured 
vows.  Calmly,  coldly,  and  deliberately  I  write ;  and  thus 
writing,  I  renounce  your  love. 

This  language  is  wanton  cruelty ;  it  is  fiendish  insult,  —  is 
it  not,  Evelyn  ?  Am  I  not  a  villain  ?  Are  you  not  grateful 
for  your  escape  ?  Do  you  not  look  on  the  past  with  a  shudder 
at  the  precipice  on  which  you  stood  ? 

I  have  done  with  this  subject;  I  turn  to  another.  We  are 
parted,  Evelyn,  and  forever.  Do  not  fancy,  —  I  repeat,  do 
not  fancy  that  there  is  any  error,  any  strange  infatuation,  on 
my  mind ;  that  there  is  anj'  possibility  that  the  sentence  can 
be  annulled.  It  were  almo.st  easier  to  call  the  dead  from  the 
grave  than  bring  us  again  together,  as  we  were  and  as  we 
hoped  to  be.  Now  that  you  are  convinced  of  that  truth,  learn, 
as  soon  as  you  have  recovered  the  first  shock  of  knowing  how 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  483 

much  wickedness  there  is  on  earth,  —  learn  to  turn  to  the 
future  for  happier  and  more  suitable  ties  than  those  you  could 
have  formed  with  me.  You  are  very  young  :  in  youth  our 
first  impressions  are  lively  but  evanescent  ;  you  will  wonder 
hereafter  at  having  fancied  you  loved  me.  Another  and  a 
fairer  image  will  replace  mine.  This  is  what  I  desire  and 
pray  for.  As  soon  as  I  learn  that  you  love  another,  that  you  are 
ivedded  to  another,  I  will  reappear  in,  the  world  ;  till  then,  I  am 
a  wanderer  and  an  exile.  Your  hand  alone  can  efface  from  my 
hrow  the  brand  of  Cain  !  When  I  am  gone,  Lord  Vargrave  will 
probably  renew  his  suit.  I  would  rather  you  married  one  of 
your  own  years,  —  one  whom  you  could  love  fondly,  one  who 
would  chase  away  every  remembrance  of  the  wretch  who  now 
forsakes  you.  But  perhaps  I  have  mistaken  Lord  Vargrave's 
character,  —  perhaps  he  may  be  worthier  of  you  than  I  deemed 
(7  who  set  up  for  the  censor  of  other  men  !);  perhaps  he 
may  both  win  and  deserve  your  affection. 

Evelyn,  farewell  !     God,  who  tempers  the  wind  to  the  shorn 
lamb,  will  watch  over  you ! 

Ernest  Maltravers. 


484  ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Onr  acts  our  angels  are,  or  good  or  ill, 
The  fatal  shadows  that  walk  by  us  still. 

John  Fletcher. 

The  next  morning  came;  the  carriage  was  at  the  door 
of  ilaltravers,  to  bear  him  away  he  cared  not  whither. 
Where  could  he  fly  from  memory?  He  had  just  de- 
spatched the  letter  to  Evelyn,  —  a  letter  studiously 
written  for  the  object  of  destroying  all  the  affection  to 
which  he  had  so  fondly  looked  as  the  last  charm  of  life. 
He  was  now  only  waiting  for  Vargrave,  to  whom  he 
had  sent,  and  w)io  hastened  to  obey  the  summons. 

When  Lumley  arrived,  he  was  shocked  at  the  altera- 
tion which  a  single  night  had  effected  in  the  appearance 
of  Maltravers;  but  he  was  surprised  and  relieved  to 
find  him  calm  and  self-possessed. 

"Vargrave,"  said  Maltravers,  "whatever  our  past 
coldness,  henceforth  I  owe  to  you  an  eternal  gratitude; 
and  henceforth  this  awful  secret  makes  between  us  an 
indissoluble  bond.  If  I  have  understood  you  rightly, 
neither  Alice  nor  other  living  being  than  yourself  knows 
that  in  me,  Ernest  Maltravers,  stands  the  guilty  object 
of  Alice's  first  love.  Let  that  secret  still  be  kept;  re- 
lieve Alice's  mind  from  the  apprehension  of  learning 
that  the  man  who  betrayed  her  yet  lives:  he  will  not 
live  long  I  I  leave  time  and  method  of  explanation  to 
your  own  judgment  and  acuteness.  Xow  for  Evelyn." 
Here  Maltravers  stated  generally  the  tone  of  the  letter 
he  had  written.     Vargrave  listened  thoughtfully. 


ALICE  ;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  485 

"  Maltravers ,"  said  he,  "it  is  right  to  try  first  the 
effect  of  your  letter.  But  if  it  fail;  if  it  only  serve  to 
inflame  the  imagination  and  excite  the  interest;  if 
Evelyn  still  continue  to  love  you;  if  that  love  preys 
upon  her;  if  it  should  undermine  health  and  spirit;  if 
it  should  destroy  her  —  " 

Maltravers  groaned.  Lumley  proceeded:  "  I  say  this 
not  to  wound  you,  but  to  provide  against  all  circum- 
stances. I,  too,  have  spent  the  night  in  revolving  what 
is  best  to  be  done  in  such  a  case;  and  this  is  the  plan  I 
have  formed.  Let  us,  if  need  be,  tell  the  truth  to 
Evelyn,  robbing  the  truth  only  of  its  shame.  Nay, 
nay,  listen.  Why  not  say  that  under  a  borrowed  name, 
and  in  the  romance  of  early  youth,  you  knew  and  loved 
Alice  (though  in  innocence  and  honor)  1  Your  tender 
age,  the  difference  of  rank,  forbade  your  union.  Her 
father,  discovering  your  clandestine  correspondence,  sud- 
denly removed  her  from  the  country,  and  destroyed  all 
clew  for  your  inquiries.  You  lost  sight  of  eacli  other; 
each  was  taught  to  believe  the  other  dead.  Alice  was 
compelled  by  her  father  to  marry  ]\Ir.  Cameron;  and 
after  his  death  her  poverty  and  her  love  for  her  only 
child  induced  her  to  accept  my  uncle.  You  have  now 
learned  all :  have  learned  that  Evelyn  is  the  daughter  of 
your  first  love ,  —  the  daughter  of  one  who  adores  you 
still,  and  whose  life  your  remembrance  has  for  so  many 
years  embittered.  Evelyn  herself  will  at  once  compre- 
hend all  the  scruples  of  a  delicate  mind ;  Evelyn  herself 
will  recoil  from  the  thought  of  making  the  child  the 
rival  to  the  mother.  She  will  understand  why  you  have 
flown  from  her;  she  will  sympathize  with  your  strug- 
gles; she  will  recall  the  constant  melancholy  of  Alice; 
she  will  hope  that  the  ancient  love  may  be  renewed, 
and  efface  all  grief ;  generosity  and  duty  alike  will  urge 
her  to  conquer  her  own  affection.     And  hereafter,  when 


486  ALICE;   OK,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

time  has  restored  you  both,  father  and  child  may  meet 
with  such  sentiments  as  father  and  child  may  own." 

Maltravers  was  silent  for  some  minutes ;  at  length  he 
said  abruptly,  "  And  you  really  loved  her,  Vargrave  ? 
You  love  her  still;  your  dearest  care  must  be  her 
welfare  1  " 

"  It  is;  indeed  it  is!  " 

"  Then  I  must  trust  to  your  discretion ;  I  can  have 
no  other  conhdant ;  I  myself  am  not  fit  to  judge.  My 
mind  is  darkened;  you  may  be  right,  —  I  think  so," 

"One  word  more,  —  she  may  discredit  my  tale,  if 
unsupported.  Will  you  write  one  line  to  me  to  say  that 
I  am  authorized  to  reveal  the  secret,  and  that  it  is 
known  only  to  me  ?  I  will  not  use  it  unless  I  should 
think  it  absolutely  required." 

Hastily  and  mechanically  Maltravers  wrote  a  few 
words  to  the  effect  of  what  Lumley  had  suggested.  "  I 
will  inform  you,"  he  said  to  Vargrave  as  he  gave  him 
the  paper,  "  of  whatever  spot  may  become  my  asylum, 
and  you  can  communicate  to  me  all  that  I  dread  and  long 
to  hear;  but  let  no  man  know  the  refuge  of  despair!  " 

There  was  positively  a  tear  in  Vargrave's  cold  eye, — 
the  only  tear  that  had  glistened  there  for  many  years; 
he  paused  irresolute,  then  advanced,  again  halted,  mut- 
tered to  himself,  and  turned  aside. 

"As  for  the  world,"  Lumley  resumed,  after  a  pause, 
"your  engagement  has  been  public,  —  some  public 
account  of  its  breach  must  be  invented.  You  have 
always  been  considered  a  proud  man ;  we  will  say  that  it 
was  low  birth  on  the  side  of  both  mother  and  father  (the 
last  only  just  discovered)  that  broke  off  the  alliance!  " 

Vargrave  was  talking  to  the  deaf:  what  cared  Mal- 
travers for  the  world?  He  hastened  from  the  room, 
threw  himself  into  his  carriage,  and  Vargrave  was  left 
to  plot,  to  hope,  and  to  aspire. 


BOOK  X. 

Od\ov''Oyetpov.  —  Homer :  Iliad,  lib.  ii.  L  6. 
A  dream ! 


BOOK  X. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Qualis  ubi  in  lucem  coluber 

Mala  gramina  pastas.* 

Virgil. 

Pars  minima  est  ipsa  puella  sui.^  —  Ovid. 

It  would  be  superfluous,  and  perhaps  a  sickening  task, 
to  detail  at  length  the  mode  and  manner  in  which  Var- 
grave  coiled  his  snares  round  the  unfortunate  girl  whom 
his  destiny  had  marked  out  for  his  prey.  He  was  right 
in  forevseeing  tliat  after  the  first  amazement  caused  by 
the  letter  of  Maltravers,  Evelyn  would  feel  resentment 
crushed  beneath  her  certainty  of  his  aifection,  her  in- 
credulity at  his  self -accusations,  and  her  secret  convic- 
tion that  some  reverse,  some  misfortune  he  was  unwilling 
she  should  share,  was  the  occasion  of  his  farewell  and 
flight.  Vargrave  therefore  very  soon  communicated  to 
Evelyn  the  tale  he  had  suggested  to  Maltravers.  He 
reminded  her  of  the  habitual  sorrow,  the  evidence  of 
which  was  so  visible  in  Lady  Vargrave;  of  her  indiffer- 
ence to  the  pleasures  of  the  world;  of  her  sensitive 
shrinking  from  all  recurrence  to  her  early  fate.  "  The 
secret  of  this,"  said  he,  "  is  in  a  youthful  and  most  fer- 
vent  attachment;  your  mother  loved  a  young  stranger 

1  As  when  a  snake  glides  into  light,  having  fed  on  pernicioua 
pastures. 

2  The  girl  is  the  least  part  of  himself. 


490  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   JIYSTERIES. 

above  her  in  rank,  who  (his  head  being  full  of  German 
romance)  was  then  roaming  about  the  country  on  pedes- 
trian and  adventurous  excursions,  under  the  assumed 
name  of  Butler.  By  him  she  was  most  ardently  be- 
loved in  return.  Her  father,  perhaps,  suspected  the 
rank  of  her  lover,  and  was  fearful  of  her  honor  being 
compromised.  He  was  a  strange  man,  that  father!  and 
1  know  not  his  real  character  and  motives;  but  he  sud- 
denly withdrew  his  daughter  from  the  suit  and  search  of 
her  lover :  they  saw  each  other  no  more ;  her  lover 
mourned  her  as  one  dead.  In  process  of  time  your 
mother  was  constrained  by  her  father  to  marry  Mr. 
Cameron,  and  was  left  a  widow  with  an  only  child, — 
yourself.  She  was  poor,  —  very  poor!  and  her  love  and 
anxiety  for  you  at  last  induced  her  to  listen  to  the 
addresses  of  my  late  uncle;  for  your  sake  she  married 
again,  —  again  death  dissolved  the  tie!  But  still,  un- 
ceasingly and  faithfully,  she  recalled  that  first  love,  the 
memory  of  which  darkened  and  embittered  all  her  life ; 
and  still  she  lived  upon  the  hope  to  meet  with  tlie 
lost  again.  At  last,  and  most  recently,  it  was  my  fate 
to  discover  that  the  object  of  this  unconquerable  affection 
lived,  —  was  still  free  in  hand  if  not  in  heart:  you  be- 
hold the  lover  of  your  mother  in  Ernest  Maltravers.  It 
devolved  on  me  (an  invidious,  a  reluctant  duty)  to  in- 
form Maltravers  of  the  identity  of  Lady  Vargrave  with 
the  Alice  of  his  boyish  passion ;  to  prove  to  him  her 
suffering,  patient,  unsubdued  affection;  to  convince  him 
that  the  sole  hope  left  to  her  in  life  was  that  of  one  day 
or  other  beholding  him  once  again.  You  know  Mal- 
travers,—  his  high-wrought,  sensitive,  noble  character: 
he  recoiled  in  terror  from  the  thought  of  making  his 
love  to  the  daughter  the  last  and  bitterest  affliction  to 
the  mother  he  had  so  loved;  knowing,  too.  how  com- 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  491 

pletely  that  mother  had  entwined  herself  round  your 
affections,  he  shuddered  at  the  pain  and  self-reproach 
that  would  be  yours  when  you  should  discover  to  whom 
you  had  been  the  rival,  and  whose  the  fond  hopes  and 
dreams  that  your  fatal  beauty  had  destroyed.  Tortured, 
despairing,  and  half  beside  himself,  he  has  fled  from 
this  ill-omened  passion,  and  in  solitude  he  now  seeks 
to  subdue  that  passion.  Touched  by  the  woe,  the  grief, 
of  the  Alice  of  his  youth,  it  is  his  intention,  as  soon  as 
he  can  know  you  restored  to  happiness  and  content,  to 
hasten  to  your  mother,  and  offer  his  future  devotion  as 
the  fulfilment  of  former  vows.  On  you,  and  you  alone, 
it  depends  to  restore  Maltravers  to  the  world ;  on  you 
alone  it  depends  to  bless  the  remaining  years  of  the 
mother  who  so  dearly  loves  you!  " 

It  may  be  easily  conceived  with  what  sensations  of 
Avonder,  compassion,  and  dismay,  Evelyn  listened  to 
this  tale,  the  progress  of  which  her  exclamations,  her 
sobs,  often  interrupted.  She  would  write  instantly 
to  her  mother,  to  Maltravers.  Oh,  how  gladly  she 
could  relinquish  his  suit;  how  cheerfully  promise  to 
rejoice  in  that  desertion  which  brought  happiness  to  the 
mother  she  had  so  loved! 

"  Nay ,"  said  Vargrave ;  "  your  mother  must  not  know, 
till  the  intelligence  can  be  breathed  by  his  lips,  and 
softened  by  his  protestations  of  returning  affection,  that 
tlie  mysterious  object  of  her  early  romance  is  that  Mal- 
travers whose  vows  have  been  so  lately  offered  to  her 
own  child.  Would  not  such  intelligence  shock  all 
pride,  and  destroy  all  hope?  How  could  she  then  con- 
sent to  the  sacrifice  which  Maltravers  is  prepared  to 
make?  No!  not  till  you  are  another's;  not  (to  use  the 
words  of  Maltravers)  till  you  are  a  happy  and  beloved 
wife,  —  must  your  mother  receive  the  returning  homage 


492  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

of  Maltravers;  not  till  then  can  she  know  where  that 
homage  has  been  recently  rendered;  not  till  then  can 
Maltravers  feel  justified  in  the  atonement  he  meditates. 
He  is  willing  to  sacrifice  himself;  he  trembles  at  the 
thought  of  sacrificing  you.  Say  nothing  to  your  mother 
till,  from  her  own  lips,  she  tells  you  that  she  has  learned 
all." 

Could  Evelyn  hesitate?  Could  Evelyn  doubt?  To 
allay  the  fears,  to  fulfil  the  prayers,  of  the  man  whose 
conduct  appeared  so  generous;  to  restore  him  to  peace 
and  the  world;  above  all,  to  pluck  from  the  heart  of 
that  beloved  and  gentle  mother  the  rankling  dart;  to 
shed  happiness  over  her  fate;  to  reunite  her  with  the 
loved  and  lost,  —  what  sacrifice  too  great  for  this  t 

Ah,  why  was  Legard  absent?  Why  did  she  believe 
him  capricious,  light,  and  false?  Why  had  she  shut 
her  softest  thoughts  from  her  soul  ?  But  he  —  the  true 
lover  —  was  afar,  and  his  true  love  unknown;  and  Var- 
grave,  the  watchful  serpent,  was  at  hand. 

In  a  fatal  hour,  and  in  the  transport  of  that  enthusiasm 
which  inspires  alike  our  more  rash  and  our  more  sub- 
lime deeds,  which  makes  us  alike  dupes  and  martyrs,  — 
the  enthusiasm  that  tramples  upon  self,  that  forfeits  all 
things  to  a  high-wrought  zeal  for  others,  —  Evelyn  con- 
sented to  become  the  wife  of  Vargrave.  Nor  was  she  at 
first  sensible  of  the  sacrifice,  —  sensible  of  anything  but 
the  glow  of  a  noble  spirit  and  an  approving  conscience. 
Yes,  thus,  and  thus  alone,  did  she  obey  both  duties: 
that,  which  she  had  wellnigh  abandoned,  to  her  dead 
benefactor,  and  that  to  the  living  mother.  Afterwards 
came  a  dread  reaction;  and  then,  at  last,  that  passive 
and  sleep-like  resignation  which  is  despair  under  a 
milder  name.  Yes;  such  a  lot  had  been  predestined 
from   the   first.      In    vain    had   she    sought   to   fly    it: 


ALICE;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  493 

fate   had  overtaken   her,  and  she   must  submit   to   the 
decree. 

She  was  most  anxious  that  the   intelligence  of  the 
new  bond  might  be  transmitted  instantly  to  Maltravers. 
Vargrave  promised,  but  took  care  not  to  perform.      He 
was  too  acute  not  to  know  that,  in  so  sudden  a  step, 
Evelyn's  motives  would  be  apparent,  and  his  own  suit 
indelicate  and  imgenerous.     He  was  desirous  that  Mal- 
travers  should   learn    nothing   till   the   vows  had    been 
spoken,  and  the   indissoluble   chain  forged.     Afraid  to 
leave   Evelyn,  even  for  a  day;  afraid  to  trust  her  in 
England  to  an    interview    with   her   mother,  —  he  re- 
mained at  Paris,  and  hurried  on  all  the  requisite  prepa- 
rations.     He  sent  to  Douce,  who  came  in  person,  with 
the  deeds  necessary  for  the  transfer  of  the  money  for  the 
purchase  of  Lisle  Court,  which  was  now  to  be  imme- 
diately  completed.      The  money  was  to  be  lodged   in 
Mr.  Douce's  bank  till  the  lawyers  had  completed  their 
operations;  and  in  a  few  weeks,  when  Evelyn  had  at- 
tained the  allotted  age,  Vargrave  trusted  to  see  himself 
lord  alike  of  the  betrothed  bride,   and  the  hereditary 
lands  of  the  crushed  Maltravers.       He  refrained    from 
stating  to  Evelyn  who  was  the  present  proprietor  of  the 
estate  to  become  hers;  he  foresaw  all  the  objections  she 
would  form,  — and,  indeed,  she  was  unable  to  think,  to 
talk,  of  such  matters.      One  favor  she  had  asked,  and  it 
had  been  granted :  that  she  was  to  be  left  unmolested  to 
her  solitude  till  the  fatal  day.     Shut  up  in  her  lonely 
room,  condemned  not  to  confide  her  thoughts,  —  to  seek 
for  sympathy  even  in  her   mother,  —  the  poor  girl  in 
vain    endeavored  to  keep    up  to  the  tenor  of  her  first 
enthusiasm,    and   reconcile    herself    to    a   step   which, 
however,   she  was  heroine  enough  not  to  retract  or  to 
repent,  even  while  she  recoiled  from  its  contemplation. 


494  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

Lady  Doltimore,  amazed  at  what  had  passed,  —  at  the 
flight  of  Maltravers;  the  success  of  Lumle}^,  —  unable 
to  account  for  it,  to  extort  explanation  from  Yargrave 
or  from  Evelyn,  was  distracted  by  the  fear  of  some 
villanous  deceit  which  she  could  not  fathom;  to  es- 
cape, herself,  she  plunged  yet  more  eagerly  into  the 
gay  vortex.  Vargrave,  suspicious,  and  fearful  of  trust- 
ing to  what  she  might  say  in  her  nervous  and  excited 
temper,  if  removed  from  his  watchful  eye,  deemed  him- 
self compelled  to  hover  round  her.  His  manner,  his 
conduct,  were  most  guarded;  but  Caroline  herself,  jeal- 
ous, irritated,  unsettled,  evinced  at  times  a  right  both 
to  familiarity  and  anger,  which  drew  upon  her  and 
himself  the  sly  vigilance  of  slander.  Meanwhile  Lord 
Doltimore,  though  too  cold  and  proud  openly  to  notice 
what  passed  around  him,  seemed  disturbed  and  anxious. 
His  manner  to  Vargrave  was  distant;  he  shunned  all 
tete-a-tetes  with  his  wife.  Little,  however,  of  this  did 
Lumley  heed;  a  few  weeks  more,  and  all  would  be 
well  and  safe.  Yargrave  did  not  publish  his  engage- 
ment with  Evelyn:  he  sought  carefully  to  conceal  it  till 
the  very  day  Avas  near  at  hand;  but  it  was  whispered 
abroad.  Some  laughed;  some  believed.  Evelyn  herself 
was  seen  nowhere.  De  Montaigne  had,  at  first,  been 
indignantly  incredulous  at  the  report  that  Maltravers 
had  broken  off  a  connection  he  had  so  desired,  from  a 
motive  so  weak  and  unworthy  as  that  of  mere  family 
pride.  A  letter  from  Maltravers,  who  confided  to  him 
and  Yargrave  alone  the  secret  of  his  retreat,  reluctantly 
convinced  him  that  the  wise  are  but  pompous  fools. 
He  was  angry  and  disgusted;  and  still  more  so,  when 
Yalerie  and  Teresa  (for  female  friends  stand  by  us  right 
or  wrong)  hinted  at  excuses,  or  surmised  that  other 
causes  lurked  behind  the  one  alleged.     But  his  thoughts 


ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  495 

were  much  drawn  from  this  subject  by  increasing  anx- 
iety for  Cesarini,  whose  abode  and  fate  still  remained 
an  alarming  mystery. 

It  so  happened  tliat  Lord  Doltimore,  who  had  always 
had  a  taste  for  the  antique,  and  who  was  greatly  dis- 
pleased with  his  own  family-seat  because  it  was  com- 
fortable and  modern,  fell,  from  ennui,  into  a  habit, 
fashionable  enough  at  Paris,  of  buying  curiosities  and 
cabinets,  —  high-back  chairs,  and  oak  carvings ;  and  with 
this  habit  returned  the  desire  and  the  affection  for  Bur- 
leigh. Understanding  from  Lumley  that  Maltravers  had 
probably  left  his  native  land  forever,  he  imagined  it 
extremely  probable  that  the  latter  would  now  consent 
to  the  sale ,  and  he  begged  Vargrave  to  forward  a  letter 
from  him  to  that  effect. 

Vargrave  made  some  excuse,  for  he  felt  that  nothing 
could  be  more  indelicate  than  such  an  application,  for- 
warded through  his  hands,  at  such  a  time;  and  Dolti- 
more, who  had  accidentally  heard  De  Montaigne  confess 
that  he  knew  the  address  of  Maltravers,  quietly  sent  his 
letter  to  the  Frenchman,  and  without  mentioning  its 
contents,  begged  him  to  forward  it.  De  Montaigne  did 
so.  Now,  it  is  very  strange  how  slight  men  and  slight 
incidents  bear  on  the  great  events  of  life.  But  that 
simple  letter  was  instrumental  to  a  new  revolution  in 
the  strange  history  of  Maltravers. 


496  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Quid  frustra  simulacra  fugacia  captas  ?  — 
Quod  petis  est  uusquam.^ 

OviB :  Met.  iii.  432. 

To  no  clirae  dedicated  to  the  indulgence  of  majestic 
griefs,  or  to  the  soft  melancholy  of  regret,  —  not  to  thy 
glaciers  or  thy  dark-blue  lakes,  beautiful  Switzerland, 
mother  of  many  exiles!  not  to  thy  fairer  earth,  and 
gentler  heaven,  sweet  Italy !  —  fled  the  agonized  Mal- 
travers.  Once,  in  his  wanderings,  he  had  chanced  to 
pass  by  a  landscape  so  steeped  in  sullen  and  desolate 
gloom  that  it  had  made  a  powerful  and  uneffaced  im- 
pression upon  his  mind;  it  was  amidst  those  swamps 
and  morasses  that  formerly  surrounded  the  castle  of  Gil 
de  Retz,  the  ambitious  lord,  the  dreaded  necromancer, 
who  perished  at  the  stake,  after  a  career  of  such  power 
and  splendor  as  seemed  almost  to  justify  the  dark  belief 
in  his  preternatural  agencies.^ 

Here,  in  a  lonely  and  wretched  inn,  remote  from 
other  habitations,  Maltravers  fixed  himself.  In  gentler 
griefs,  there  is  a  sort  of  luxury  in  bodily  discomfort;  in 
his  inexorable  and  unmitigated  anguish,  bodily  discom' 
fort  Avas  not  felt.  There  is  a  kind  of  magnetism  in  ex- 
treme woe,  by  which  the  body  itself  seems  laid  asleep, 
and  knows  no  distinction  between  the  bed  of  Damien 

^  Why,  in  vain,  do  you  catch  at  fleeting  shadows  ?  That  wliich 
you  seek  is  nowhere. 

■^  See,  for  a  description  of  this  scenery,  and  the  fate  of  De  Retz, 
the  high-wrought  and  glowing  romance  by  Mr.  Ritchie,  called, 
"  The  Magician." 


ALICE;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES.  497 

and  the  rose-couch  of  the  Sybarite.  He  left  his  carriage 
and  servants  at  a  post-house  some  miles  distant.  He 
came  to  this  dreary  abode  alone;  and  in  that  wintry 
season,  and  that  most  disconsolate  scene,  his  gloomy 
soul  found  something  congenial,  something  that  did 
not  mock  him,  in  the  frowns  of  the  haggard  and  dismal 
Nature.  Vain  would  it  be  to  describe  what  he  then  felt, 
—  what  he  then  endured.  Suffice  it  that,  through  all, 
the  diviner  strength  of  man  was  not  wholly  crushed; 
and  that  daily,  nightly,  hourly,  he  prayed  to  the  Great 
Comforter  to  assist  him  in  wrestling  against  a  guilty 
love.  No  man  struggles  so  honestly,  so  ardently,  as  he 
did,  utterly  in  vain;  for  in  us  all,  if  we  would  but  cher- 
isli  it,  there  is  a  spirit  that  must  rise  at  last,  —  a  crowned 
if  bleeding  conqueror,  —  over  fate  and  all  the  demons. 

One  day,  after  a  prolonged  silence  from  Vargrave, 
whose  letters  all  breathed  comfort  and  assurance  in 
Evelyn's  progressive  recovery  of  spirit  and  hope,  his 
messenger  returned  from  the  post-town  with  a  letter  in 
the  hand  of  De  Montaigne.  It  contained,  in  a  blank 
envelope  (De  Montaigne's  silence  told  him  how  much 
he  had  lost  in  the  esteem  of  his  friend) ,  the  communi- 
cation of  Lord  Doltimore.      It  ran  thus :  — 

My  dear  Sir,  —  As  I  hear  that  your  plans  are  likely  to 
make  you  a  long  resident  on  the  Continent,  may  I  again  in- 
quire if  you  would  be  induced  to  dispose  of  Burleigh  1  I  am 
willing  to  give  more  than  its  real  value,  and  would  raise  a 
mortgage  on  my  own  property  sufficient  to  pay  off  at  once  the 
whole  purchase-money.  Perhaps  you  may  be  the  more  in- 
duced to  the  sale  from  the  circumstance  of  having  an  example 
in  the  head  of  your  family, — Colonel  Maltravers,  as  I  learn 
through  Lord  Vargrave,  having  resolved  to  dispose  of  Lisle 
Court.     Waiting  your  answer,  — 

I  am,  dear  Sir,  truly  yours, 

Doltimore. 
32 


498  ALICE;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES. 

"Ay,"  said  ]Maltravers,  bitterly,  crushing  the  letter 
in  his  hand ;  "  let  our  name  be  blotted  out  from  the 
land,  and  our  hearths  pass  to  the  stranger.  How  could 
I  ever  visit  again  the  place  where  I  first  saw  her  ?  " 

He  resolved  at  once:  he  would  write  to  England, 
and  place  the  matter  in  the  hands  of  agents.  This  was 
but  a  short-lived  diversion  to  his  thoughts,  and  their 
cloudy  darkness  soon  gathered  round  him  again. 

What  I  am  now  about  to  relate  may  appear,  to  a  hasty 
criticism,  to  savor  of  the  supernatural;  but  it  is  easily 
accounted  for  by  ordinary  agencies,  and  it  is  strictly  to 
the  letter  of  the  truth. 

In  his  sleep  that  night,  a  dream  appeared  to  Mal- 
travers.  He  thought  he  was  alone  in  the  old  library  at 
Burleigh,  and  gazing  on  the  portrait  of  his  mother;  as 
he  so  gazed,  he  fancied  that  a  cold  and  awful  tremor 
seized  upon  him,  that  he  in  vain  endeavored  to  with- 
draw his  eyes  from  the  canvas,  —  his  sight  was  chained 
there  by  an  irresistible  spell.  Then  it  seemed  to  him 
that  the  portrait  gradually  changed:  the  features  the 
same,  but  the  bloom  vanished  into  a  white  and  ghastly 
hue;  the  colors  of  the  dress  faded,  their  fashion  grew 
more  large  and  flowing,  but  heavy  and  rigid  as  if  cut  in 
stone,  —  the  robes  of  the  grave.  But  on  the  face  there 
was  a  soft  and  melancholy  smile,  that  took  from  its  livid 
aspect  the  natural  horror;  the  lips  moved,  and,  it  seemed 
as  if  without  a  sound,  the  released  soul  spoke  to  that 
which  the  earth  yet  owned. 

"Return,"  it  said,  "to  thy  native  land  and  thine 
own  home.  Leave  not  the  last  relic  of  her  who  bore 
and  yet  watches  over  thee  to  stranger  hands.  Thy  good 
angel  shall  meet  thee  at  thy  hearth!" 

The  voice  ceased.  With  a  violent  effort  Maltravers 
broke  the  spell  that  had  forbidden  his  utterance.     He 


ALICE;  OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  499 

called  aloud,  and  the  dream  vanished;  he  was  broad 
awake,  his  hair  erect,  the  cold  dews  on  his  brow. 
The  pallet  rather  than  bed  on  which  he  lay  was  oppo- 
site to  the  window,  and  the  wintry  moonlight  streamed 
wan  and  spectral  into  the  cheerless  room.  But  between 
himself  and  the  light  there  seemed  to  stand  a  shape,  a 
shadow,  —  that  into  which  the  portrait  had  changed  in 
his  dream,  that  which  had  accosted  and  chilled  his  soul. 
He  sprang  forward :  "  My  mother !  even  in  the  grave 
canst  thou  bless  thy  wretched  son!  Oh,  leave  me  not; 
say  that  thou  — "  The  delusion  vanished,  and  Mal- 
travers  fell  back  insensible. 

It  was  long  in  vain,  when,  in  the  healthful  light  of 
day,  he  revolved  this  memorable  dream,  that  Maltravers 
sought  to  convince  himself  that  dreams  need  no  minis- 
ters from  heaven  or  hell  to  bring  the  gliding  falsehoods 
along  the  paths  of  sleep;  that  the  effect  of  that  dream 
itself  on  his  shattered  nerves,  his  excited  fancy,  was  the 
real  and  sole  raiser  of  the  spectre  he  had  thought  to  be- 
hold on  waking.  Long  was  it  before  his  judgment  could 
gain  the  victory,  and  reason  disown  the  empire  of  a 
turbulent  imagination ;  and  even  when  at  length  re- 
luctantly convinced,  the  dream  still  haunted  him,  and 
he  could  not  shake  it  from  his  breast.  He  longed 
anxiously  for  the  next  night ;  it  came ,  but  it  brought 
neither  dreams  nor  sleep,  and  the  rain  beat  and  the 
winds  howled  against  the  casement.  Another  night, 
and  the  moon  was  again  bright,  and  he  fell  into  a  deep 
sleep:  no  vision  disturbed  or  hallowed  it.  He  woke 
ashamed  of  his  own  expectation.  But  the  event,  such 
as  it  was,  by  giving  a  new  turn  to  his  thoughts,  had 
roused  and  relieved  his  spirit,  and  misery  sat  iipon  him 
with  a  lighter  load.  Perhaps,  too,  to  that  still  haunt- 
ing recollection  was  mainly  owing  a  change  in  his  former 


500  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

purpose.  He  would  still  sell  the  old  hall,  but  he  would 
first  return  and  remove  that  holy  portrait  with  pious 
hands;  he  would  garner  up  and  save  all  that  had  be- 
longed to  her  whose  death  had  been  his  birth.  Ah, 
never  had  she  known  for  what  trials  the  infant  had 
been  reserved! 


ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  501 


CHAPTER  III. 

The  weary  hours  steal  on, 
And  flaky  darkness  breaks. 

Richard  III. 

Once  more,  suddenly  and  nnlooked  for,  the  lord  of 
Burleigh  appeared  at  the  gates  of  his  deserted  hall ;  and 
again  the  old  housekeeper  and  her  satellites  were  thrown 
into  dismay  and  consternation.  Amidst  blank  and  wel- 
comeless  faces,  Maltravers  passed  into  his  study;  and  as 
soon  as  the  logs  burned  and  the  bustle  was  over,  and  he 
was  left  alone,  he  took  up  the  light  and  passed  into  the 
adjoining  library.  It  was  then  about  nine  o'clock  in  the 
evening;  the  air  of  the  room  felt  damp  and  chill,  and 
the  light  but  faintly  struggled  against  the  mournful  gloom 
of  the  dark,  book-lined  walls  and  sombre  tapestry.  He 
placed  the  candle  on  the  table,  and  drawing  aside  the 
curtain  that  veiled  the  portrait,  gazed  with  deep  emo- 
tion, not  unmixed  with  awe,  upon  the  beautiful  face 
whose  eyes  seemed  fixed  upon  him  with  mournful  sweet- 
ness. There  is  something  mystical  about  those  painted 
ghosts  of  ourselves  that  survive  our  very  dust.  Wlio, 
gazing  upon  them  long  and  wistfully,  does  not  half  fancy 
that  they  seem  not  insensible  to  his  gaze,  as  if  we  looked 
our  own  life  into  them,  and  the  eyes  that  followed  us 
where  we  moved  were  animated  by  a  stranger  art  than 
the  mere  trick  of   the  limner's  colors? 

With  folded  arms,  rapt  and  motionless,  Maltravers 
contemplated  the  form  that,  by  the  upward  rays  of  the 
flickering  light,  seemed  to  bend  down  towards  the  deso- 


502  ALICE;   OK,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

late  son.  How  had  he  ever  loved  the  memory  of  his 
mother!  How  often  in  his  childish  years  had  he  stolen 
away,  and  shed  wild  tears  for  the  loss  of  that  dearest  of 
earthly  ties,  never  to  be  compensated,  never  to  be  re- 
placed! How  had  he  respected,  how  sympathized,  with 
the  very  repugnance  which  his  father  had  at  first  testified 
towards  him,  as  the  innocent  cause  of  her  untimely  death ! 
He  had  never  seen  her,  —  never  felt  her  passionate  kiss; 
and  yet  it  seemed  to  him,  as  he  gazed,  as  if  he  had 
known  her  for  years.  That  strange  kind  of  inner  and 
spiritual  memory  which  often  recalls  to  us  places  and 
persons  we  have  never  seen  before,  and  which  Platonists 
would  resolve  to  the  \inquenched  and  struggling  conscious- 
ness of  a  former  life,  stirred  within  him,  and  seemed 
to  whisper,  "  You  were  united  in  the  old  time."  "  Yes," 
he  said,  half  aloud ;  "  we  will  never  part  again.  Blessed 
be  the  delusion  of  the  dream  that  recalled  to  my  heart 
the  remembrance  of  thee,  which,  at  least,  I  can  cherish 
without  a  sin !  '  My  good  angel  shall  meet  me  at  my 
hearth! '  So  didst  thou  say  in  the  solemn  vision.  Ah, 
does  thy  soul  watch  over  me  stiU  ?  How  long  shall  it  be 
before  the  barrier  is  broken,  —  how  long  before  we  meet, 
but  not  in  dreams  ?  " 

The  door  opened ;  the  housekeeper  looked  in.  "  I 
beg  pardon,  sir,  but  T  thought  your  honor  would  excuse 
the  liberty,  though  I  know  it  is  very  bold  to  —  " 
"  Wliat  is  the  matter,  —  what  do  you  want?  " 
"Why,  sir,  poor  Mrs.  Elton  is  dying;  they  say  she 
cannot  get  over  the  night ;  and  as  the  carriage  drove  by 
the  cottage  window,  the  nurse  told  her  that  the  squire  was 
returned ;  and  .she  has  sent  up  the  nurse  to  entreat  to  see 
your  honor  before  she  dies.  I  am  sure  I  was  most  loath 
to  disturb  you,  sir,  with  such  a  message ;  and  says  I,  the 
squire  has  only  just  come  off  a  journey,  and  —  " 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  503 

"  Who  is  Mrs.  Elton  1 " 

"  Don't  your  honor  remember  the  poor  woman  that 
was  nm  over,  and  you  were  so  good  to,  and  brought  mto 
the  house  the  day  Miss  Cameron —  " 

"  I  remember;  say  I  will  be  with  her  in  a  few  minutes. 
About  to  die !  "  muttered  Maltravers ;  "  she  is  to  be  en- 
vied. The  prisoner  is  let  loose,  —  the  bark  leaves  the 
desert  isle!  " 

He  took  his  hat  and  walked  across  the  park,  dimly 
lighted  by  the  stars,  to  the  cottage  of  the  sufferer.  He 
reached  her  bedside,  and  took  her  hand  kindly.  She 
seemed  to  rally  at  the  sight  of  him;  the  nurse  was 
dismissed;  they  were  left  alone. 

Before  morning  the  spirit  had  left  that  humble  clay; 
and  the  mists  of  dawn  were  heavy  on  the  grass  as  Mal- 
travers returned  home.  There  were  then  on  his  counte- 
nance the  traces  of  recent  and  strong  emotion,  and  his 
step  was  elastic  and  his  cheek  flushed.  Hope  once  more 
broke  within  him,  but  mingled  with  doubt,  and  faintly 
combated  by  reason.  In  another  hour  Maltravers  was 
on  his  way  to  Brook-Green.  Impatient,  restless,  fevered, 
he  urged  on  the  horses,  he  sowed  the  road  with  gold; 
and  at  length  the  wheels  stopped  before  the  door  of  the 
village  inn.  He  descended,  asked  the  way  to  the  curate's 
house,  and  crossing  the  burial-ground  and  passing  imder 
the  shadow  of  .the  old  yew-tree,  entered  Aubrey's  garden. 
The  curate  was  at  home ;  and  the  conference  that  ensued 
was  of  deep  and  breathless  interest  to  the  visitor. 

It  is  now  time  to  place  before  the  reader,  in  due  order 
and  connection,  the  incidents  of  that  story  the  knowledge 
of  which,  at  that  period,  broke  in  detached  and  fragment- 
ary portions  on  Maltravers. 


504  ALICE;   OE,  THE  MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

I  canna  chuse,  but  ever  will 
Be  luving  to  th}'  father  stil ; 
Whair-eir  he  gae,  whair-eir  he  ryde, 
My  luve  with  him  maun  stil  abyde ; 
In  weil  or  wae,  whair-eir  he  gae, 
Mine  heart  can  neir  depart  him  frae. 

Lady  Anne  Bothwell's  Lament. 

It  may  be  rememlDered  that  in  the  earlier  part  of  this 
continuation  of  the  history  of  Maltravers,  it  was  stated 
that  Aubrey  had  in  early  life  met  with  the  common  lot 
of  a  disappointed  affection.  Eleanor  Westbrook,  a  young 
woman  of  his  own  humble  rank,  had  won,  and  seemed 
to  return,  his  love;  but  of  that  love  she  was  not  worthy. 
Vain,  volatile,  and  ambitious,  she  forsook  the  poor 
student  for  a  more  brilliant  marriage.  She  accepted 
the  hand  of  a  merchant,  who  was  caught  by  her  beauty, 
and  who  had  the  reputation  of  great  wealth.  They 
settled  in  London,  and  Aubrey  lost  all  traces  of  her. 
She  gave  birth  to  an  only  daughter;  and  when  that 
child  had  attained  her  fourteenth  year,  her  husband  sud- 
denly, and  seemingly  without  cause,  put  an  end  to  his 
existence.  The  cause,  however,  was  apparent  before  he 
was  laid  in  his  grave.  He  was  involved  far  beyond  his 
fortune;  he  had  died  to  escape  beggary  and  a  jail. 
A  small  annuity,  not  exceeding  one  hundred  pounds, 
had  been  secured  on  the  widow.  On  this  income  she 
retired  with  her  child  into  the  country;  and  chance, 
the  vicinity  of  some  distant  connections,  and  the  cheap- 
ness of  the  place,  concurred  to  fix  her  residence  in  the 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  505 

outskirts    of   the    town   of   C .     Characters  that  in 

youth  have  been  most  volatile  and  most  worldly,  often, 
when  bowed  down  and  dejected  by  the  adversity  which 
they  are  not  fitted  to  encounter,  become  the  most  mor- 
bidly devout:  they  ever  require  an  excitement;  and 
when  earth  denies,  they  seek  it  impatiently  from 
heaven. 

This  was  the  case  with  Mrs.  Westbrook ;  and  this  new 
turn  of  mind  brought  her  naturally  into  contact  with 
the  principal  saint  of  the  neighborhood,  Mr.  Richard 
Templeton.  We  have  seen  that  that  gentleman  was  not 
happy  in  his  first  marriage ;  death  had  not  then  annulled 
the  bond.  He  was  of  an  ardent  and  sensual  tempera- 
ment, and  quietly,  under  the  broad  cloak  of  his  doctrines, 
he  indulged  his  constitutional  tendencies.  Perhaps  in 
this  respect  he  was  not  worse  than  nine  men  out  of  ten. 
But  then  he  professed  to  be  better  than  nine  hundred 
thousand  nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine  men  out  of  a 
million!  To  a  fault  of  temperament  was  added  the  craft 
of  hypocrisy,  and  the  vulgar  error  became  a  dangerous 
vice.  Upon  Mary  Westbrook,  the  widow's  daughter, 
he  gazed  with  eyes  that  were  far  from  being  the  eyes  of 
the  spirit.  Even  at  the  age  of  fourteen  she  charmed 
him;  but  when,  after  watching  her  ripening  beauty  ex- 
pand, three  years  were  added  to  that  age,  Mr.  Temple- 
ton  was  most  deeply  in  love.  Mary  was  indeed  lovely, 
her  disposition  naturally  good  and  gentle,  but  her  educa- 
tion worse  than  neglected.  To  the  frivolities  and  mean- 
nesses of  a  second-rate  fashion,  inculcated  into  her  till 
her  father's  death,  had  now  succeeded  the  quackeries, 
the  slavish  subservience,  the  intolerant  bigotries,  of  a 
transcendental  superstition.  In  a  change  so  abrupt  and 
violent,  the  whole  character  of  the  poor  girl  was  shaken : 
her    principles    unsettled,   vague,    and   unformed,   and 


506  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

naturally  of  mediocre  and  even  feeble  intellect,  she 
clung  to  the  first  plank  held  out  to  her  in  "  that  wide 
sea  of  wax  "  in  which  "  she  halted. "  Early  taught  to 
place  the  most  implicit  faith  in  the  dictates  of  Mr. 
Templeton ;  fastening  her  belief  round  him  as  the  vine 
winds  its  tendrils  round  the  oak;  yielding  to  his  as- 
cendancy, and  pleased  with  his  fostering  and  almost 
caressing  manner,  —  no  confessor  in  Papal  Italy  ever  was 
more  dangerous  to  village  virtue  than  Richard  Temple- 
ton  (who  deemed  himself  the  archetype  of  the  only  pure 
Protestantism)  to  the  morals  and  heart  of  Mary  West- 
brook. 

Mrs.  Westbrook,  whose  constitution  had  been  prema- 
turely broken  by  long  participation  in  the  excesses  of 
London  dissipation,  and  by  the  reverse  of  fortune  which 
still  preyed  upon  a  spirit  it  had  rather  soured  than  hum- 
bled, died  when  Mary  was  eighteen.  Templeton  became 
the  sole  friend,  comforter,  and  supporter  of  the  daughter. 

In  an  evil  hour  (let  us  trust  not  from  premeditated 
villany),  — an  hour  when  the  heart  of  one  was  softened 
by  grief  and  gratitude,  and  the  conscience  of  the  other 
laid  asleep  by  passion,  —  the  virtue  of  Mary  Westbrook 
was  betrayed.  Her  sorrow  and  remorse,  his  own  fears 
of  detection  and  awakened  self-reproach,  occasioned 
Templeton  the  most  anxious  and  poignant  regret. 
There  had  been  a  young  woman  in  Mrs.  Westbrook's 
service,  who  had  left  it  a  short  time  before  the  widow 
died,  in  consequence  of  her  marriage.  Her  husband 
ill-used  her;  and,  glad  to  escape  from  him  and  prove 
her  gratitude  to  her  employer's  daughter,  of  whom  she 
had  been  extremely  fond,  she  had  returned  to  Miss 
Westbrook  after  the  funeral  of  the  mother.  The  name 
of  this  woman  was  Sarah  Miles.  Templeton  saw  that 
Sarah  more  than  suspected  his  connection  with  Mary ;  it 


ALICE;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  507 

was  necessary  to  make  a  confidant,  —  he  selected  her. 
Miss  Westbrook  was  removed  to  a  distant  part  of  the 
country ,  and  Templeton  visited  her  cautiously  and  rarely. 
Four  months  afterwards,  Mrs.  Templeton  died,  and  the 
husband  was  free  to  repair  his  wrong.  Oh,  how  he 
then  repented  of  what  had  passed!  but  four  months' 
delay,  and  all  this  sin  and  sorrow  might  have  been 
saved.  He  was  now  racked  with  perplexity  and  doubt; 
his  unfortunate  victim  was  advanced  in  her  pregnancy. 
It  was  necessary,  if  he  wished  his  child  to  be  legitimate, 
—  still  more  if  he  wished  to  preserve  the  honor  of  its 
mother,  —  that  he  should  not  hesitate  long  in  the  repara- 
tion to  which  duty  and  conscience  urged  him.  But, 
on  the  other  hand,  he,  the  saint,  the  oracle,  the  im- 
maculate example  for  all  forms,  proprieties,  and  deco- 
rums, to  scandalize  the  world  by  so  rapid  and  pre- 
mature a  hymen,  — 

"  Ere  yet  the  salt  of  most  unrighteous  tears 
Had  left  the  tiushiug  iu  his  galled  eyes, 
To  marry." 

No;  he  could  not  brave  the  sneer  of  the  gossips,  the 
triumph  of  his  foes,  the  dejection  of  his  disciples,  by 
so  rank  and  rash  a  folly.  But  still  Mary  pined  so,  he 
feared  for  her  health,  for  his  own  unborn  oifspring. 
There  was  a  middle  path,  — a  compromise  between  duty 
and  the  world ;  he  grasped  at  it,  as  most  men  similarly 
situated  would  have  done, — they  were  married,  but 
privately,  and  under  feigned  names:  the  secret  was  kept 
close.  Sarah  Miles  was  the  only  witness  acquainted 
with  the  real  condition  and  names  of  the  parties. 

Eeconciled  to  herself,  the  bride  recovered  health  and 
spirits;  Templeton  formed  the  most  sanguine  hopes. 
He  resolved,  as  soon  as  the  confinement  was   over,  to 


508  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

go  abroad ;  INIary  should  follow.  In  a  foreign  land  they 
should  be  publicly  married ;  they  would  remain  some 
years  on  the  Continent;  when  he  returned,  his  child's 
age  could  be  put  back  a  year.  Oh,  nothing  could  be 
more  clear  and  easy ! 

Death  shivered  into  atoms  all  the  plans  of  Mr.  Tem- 
pleton.  Mary  suffered  most  severely  in  childbirth,  and 
died  a  few  weeks  afterwards.  Templeton  at  first  was  in- 
consolable, but  worldly  thoughts  were  great  comforters. 
He  had  done  all  that  conscience  could  do  to  atone  a  sin, 
and  he  was  freed  from  a  most  embarrassing  dilemma ,  and 
from  a  temporary  banishment  utterly  uncongenial  and 
unpalatable  to  his  habits  and  ideas.  But  now  he  had  a 
child, — a  legitimate  child,  successor  to  his  name,  his 
wealth;  a  first-born  child;  the  only  one  ever  sprung 
from  him,  the  prop  and  hope  of  advancing  years!  On 
this  child  he  doted,  with  all  that  paternal  passion  which 
the  hardest  and  coldest  men  often  feel  the  most  for  their 
own  flesh  and  blood;  for  fatherly  love  is  sometimes  but 
a  transfer  of  self-love  from  one  fund  to  another. 

Yet  this  child  —  this  darling  that  he  longed  to  show 
to  the  whole  world  —  it  was  absolutely  necessary,  for  tlie 
present,  that  he  should  conceal  and  disown.  It  had 
happened  that  Sarah's  husband  died  of  his  own  excesses 
a  few  weeks  before  the  birth  of  Templeton's  child,  she 
having  herself  just  recovered  from  her  confinement. 
Sarah  was  therefore  free  forever  from  her  husband's  vigi- 
lance and  control.  To  her  care  the  destined  heiress  was 
committed,  and  her  own  child  put  out  to  nurse.  And 
this  was  the  woman  and  this  the  child  who  had  excited 
so    much    benevolent    curiosity    in    the    breasts    of   the 

worthy  clergyman  and  the  three  old  maids  of  C .^ 

Alarmed  at  Sarah's  account  of  the  scrutiny  of  the  par- 
1  See  "Ernest  Maltravers,"  Book  iv.,  pp.  216-218. 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  509 

son,  and  at  his  own  rencontre  with  that  hawk-eyed 
pastor,  Templeton  lost  no  time  in  changing  the  abode  of 
the  nurse;  and  to  her  new  residence  had  the  banker 
bent  his  way,  with  rod  and  angle,  on  that  evening 
which  witnessed  his  adventure  with  Luke  Darvil.^ 
When  Mr.  Templeton  first  met  Alice,  his  own  child 
was  only  about  thirteen  or  fourteen  months  old ,  —  but 
little  older  than  Alice's.  If  the  beauty  of  Mrs.  Leslie's 
protegee  first  excited  his  coarser  nature,  her  maternal 
tenderness,  her  anxious  care  for  her  little  one,  struck  a 
congenial  chord  in  the  father's  heart.  It  connected  him 
with  her  by  a  mute  and  unceasing  sympathy.  Temple- 
ton had  felt  so  deeply  the  alarm  and  pain  of  illicit  love, 
he  had  been  (as  he  profanely  believed)  saved  from 
the  brink  of  public  shame  by  so  signal  an  interference 
of  grace,  that  he  resolved  no  more  to  hazard  his  good 
name  and  his  peace  of  mind  upon  such  perilous  rocks. 
The  dearest  desire  at  his  heart  was  to  have  his  daughter 
under  his  roof;  to  fondle,  to  play  with  her;  to  watch 
her  growtli,  to  win  her  affection.  This,  at  present, 
seemed  impossible.  But  if  he  were  to  marry,  —  marry  a 
widow,  to  whom  he  might  confide  all ,  or  a  portion  of, 
the  truth;  if  that  child  could  be  passed  off  as  hers, — 
ah ,  that  was  the  best  plan !  And  Templeton  wanted  a 
wife.  Years  were  creeping  on  him,  and  the  day  would 
come  when  a  wife  would  be  useful  as  a  nurse.  But 
Alice  was  supposed  to  be  a  widow;  and  Alice  was  so 
meek,  so  docile,  so  motherly.     If  she  could  be  induced 

to  remove  from  C ,  either  part  with  her  own  child 

or  call  it  her  niece,  and  adopt  his.  Such,  from  time  to 
time,  were  Templeton' s  thoughts  as  he  visited  Alice, 
and  found,  with  every  visit,  fresh  evidence  of  her  ten- 
der and  beautiful  disposition;  such  the  objects  which, 
1  See  "  Ernest  Maltravers,"  Book  iv.,  p.  240. 


510  ALICE  ;   OE,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

in  the  First  Part  of  this  work,  we  intimated  were  differ- 
ent from  those  of  mere  admiration  for  her  beanty.^  But 
again,  worldly  doubts  and  fears  —  the  dislike  of  so  un- 
suitable an  alliance,  the  worse  than  lowness  of  Alice's 
origin,  the  dread  of  discovery  for  her  early  error  —  held 
him  back,  wavering  and  irresolute.  To  say  truth,  too, 
her  innocence  and  purity  of  thought  kept  him  at  a  certain 
distance.  He  was  acute  enough  to  see  that  he,  even  he, 
the  great  Richard  Templeton,  might  be  refused  by  the 
faithful  Alice. 

At  last  Darvil  was  dead.  He  breathed  more  freely ; 
he  revolved  more  seriously  his  projects;  and  at  this 
time  Sarah,  wooed  by  her  first  lover,  wished  to  marry 
again.  His  secret  would  pass  from  her  breast  to  her 
second  husband's,  and  thence  how  far  would  it  travel  ? 
Added  to  this,  Sarah's  conscience  grew  uneasy;  the 
brand  ought  to  be  effaced  from  the  memory  of  the  dead 
mother,  —  the  legitimacy  of  the  child  proclaimed.  She 
became  importunate,  —  she  wearied  and  she  alarmed  the 
pious  man.  He  therefore  resolved  to  rid  himself  of  the 
only  witness  to  his  marriage  whose  testimony  he  had 
cause  to  fear,  —  of  the  presence  of  the  only  one  ac- 
quainted with  his  sin,  and  the  real  name  of  the  husband 
of  Mary  Westbrook.  He  consented  to  Sarah's  marriage 
with  William  Elton,  and  offered  a  liberal  dowry  on  the 
condition  that  she  should  yield  to  the  wish  of  Elton 
himself,  an  adventurous  young  man,  who  desired  to  try 

1  "  Our  hanker  always  seemed  more  struck  by  Alice's  moral 
fef3lings  than  even  hy  her  ])hysical  beauty.  Her  love  for  her  child, 
for  instance,  impressed  him  powerfully,"  etc.  "  His  feelings  alto- 
gether for  Alice,  the  designs  he  entertained  towards  her,  were  of  a 
very  complicated  nature ;  and  it  will  be  long,  perhaps,  before  the 
reader  can  thorouglily  comprehend  them."  —  See  "  Ernest  Maltra/i 
vers,"  Book  iv.,  p.  235. 


ALICE;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  511 

his  fortunes  in  the  New  World.  His  daughter  he  must 
remove  elsewhere. 

"While  this  was  going  on,  Alice's  child,  long  delicate 
and  drooping,  became  seriously  ill.  Symptoms  of  de- 
cline appeared ;  the  physician  recommended  a  milder 
air,  and  Devonshire  was  suggested.  Nothing  could 
equal  the  generous,  the  fatherly  kindness  which  Tem- 
pleton  evinced  on  this  most  painful  occasion.  He  in- 
sisted on  providing  Alice  with  the  means  to  undertake 
the  journey  with  ease  and  comfort]  and  poor  Alice, 
with  a  heart  heavy  with  gratitude  and  sorrow,  consented 
for  her  child's  sake  to  all  he  offered. 

Now  the  banker  began  to  perceive  that  all  his  hopes 
and  wishes  were  in  good  train.  He  foresaw  that  the 
child  of  Alice  was  doomed ,  —  that  was  one  obstacle  out 
of  the  way.  Alice  herself  was  to  be  removed  from  the 
sphere  of  her  humble  calling.  In  a  distant  county  she 
might  appear  of  better  station,  and  under  another  name. 
Conformably  to  these  views,  he  suggested  to  her  that 
in  proportion  to  the  seeming  wealth  and  respectability 
of  patients,  did  doctors  attend  to  their  complaints.  He 
proposed  that  Alice  should  depart  privately  to  a  town 
many  miles  off;  that  there  he  would  provide  for  her  a 
carriage ,  and  engage  a  servant ;  that  he  would  do  this  for 
her  as  for  a  relation,  and  that  she  should  take  that 
relation's  name.  To  this,  Alice,  wrapped  in  her  child, 
and  submissive  to  all  that  might  be  for  the  child's 
benefit,  passively  consented.  It  was  arranged  then  as 
proposed;  and  under  the  name  of  Cameron,  which,  as 
at  once  a  common  yet  a  well-sounding  name,  occurred 
to  his  invention,  Alice  departed  with  her  sick  charge 
and  a  female  attendant  (who  knew  notliing  of  her  pre- 
vious calling  or  story),  on  the  road  to  Devonshire. 
Templeton  himself  resolved  to  follow  her  thither  in  a 


512  ALICE;   OR,  THE  MYSTERIES. 

few  days;  and  it  was  fixed  that  they  should  meet  at 
Exeter. 

It  was  on  this  melancholy  journey  that  occurred  that 
memorable  day  when  Alice  once  more  beheld  Maltra- 
vers,  and,  as  she  believed,  uttering  the  vows  of  love  to 
another.^  The  indisposition  of  her  child  had  delayed 
her  some  hours  at  the  inn ;  the  poor  sufferer  had  fallen 
asleep ;  and  Alice  had  stolen  from  its  couch  for  a  little 
while,  when  her  eyes  rested  on  the  father.  Oh,  how 
then  she  longed,  she  burned,  to  tell  him  of  the  new 
sanctity  that,  by  a  human  life,  had  been  added  to  their 
early  love!  And  when,  crushed  and  sick  at  heart,  she 
turned  away,  and  believed  herself  forgotten  and  re- 
placed, it  was  the  pride  of  the  mother,  rather  than 
of  the  mistress,  that  supported  her.  She,  meek  crea- 
ture, felt  not  the  injury  to  herself;  but  his  child,  the 
sufferer,  perhaps  the  dying  one,  —  there ^  there  was  the 
wrong !     No ;  she  would  not  hazard  the  chance  of  a  cold 

—  Great  Heaven !  perchance  an  incredulous  —  look  upon 
the  hushed,  pale  face  above.  But  little  time  was  left 
for  thought,  for  explanation,  for  discovery.  She  saw 
him  —  unconscious  of  the  ties  so  near,  and  thus  lost 

—  depart  as  a  stranger  from  the  spot;  and  henceforth 
was  gone  the  sweet  hope  of  living  for  the  future.  Noth- 
ing was  left  her  but  the  pledge  of  that  which  had  been. 
Mournful,  despondent,  half  broken-hearted,  she  resumed 
her  journey.  At  Exeter  she  was  joined,  as  agreed,  by 
Mr.  Templeton;  and  with  him  came  a  fair,  a  blooming 
and  healthful  girl,  to  contrast  her  own  drooping  charge. 
Though  but  a  few  weeks  older,  you  would  have  supposed 
the  little  stranger  by  a  year  the  senior  of  Alice's  child: 
the  one  was  so  well  grown,  so  advanced;  the  other  so 
backward,  so  nipped  in  the  sickly  bud. 

1  See  "  Ernest  Maltravers,"  Book  v.,  p.  291. 


ALICE;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  513 

"You  can  repay  me  for  all,  for  more  than  I  have 
done,  —  more  than  I  ever  can  do  for  you  and  yours," 
said  Templeton,  —  "  by  taking  this  young  stranger  also 
under  your  care.  It  is  the  child  of  one  dear,  most 
dear,  to  me, — an  orphan:  I  know  not  with  whom  else 
to  place  it.  Let  it  for  the  present  he  supposed  your 
own ,  —  the  elder  chi Id. " 

Alice  could  refuse  nothing  to  her  benefactor;  but  her 
heart  did  not  open  at  first  to  the  beautiful  girl ,  whose 
sparkling  eyes  and  rosy  cheeks  mocked  the  languid 
looks  and  faded  hues  of  her  own  darling.  But  the 
sufferer  seemed  to  hail  a  playmate :  it  smiled ;  it  put 
forth  its  poor,  thin  hands;  it  uttered  its  inarticulate 
cry  of  pleasure,  and  Alice  burst  into  tears,  and  clasped 
them  both  to  her  heart. 

Mr.  Templeton  took  care  not  to  rest  under  the  same 
roof  with  her  he  now  seriously  intended  to  make  his 
wife;  but  he  followed  Alice  to  the  sea-side,  and  visited 
her  daily.  Her  infant  rallied ;  it  was  tenacious  of  the 
upper  air;  it  clung  to  life  so  fondly.  Poor  child,  it  could 
not  foresee  what  a  bitter  thing  to  some  of  us  life  is! 
And  now  it  was  that  Templeton,  learning  from  Alice 
her  adventure  with  her  absent  lover,  —  learning  that  all 
hope  in  that  quarter  was  gone,  —  seized  the  occasion,  and 
pressed  his  suit.  Alice  at  that  hour  was  overflowing 
with  gratitude;  in  her  child's  reviving  looks  she  read 
all  her  obligations  to  her  benefactor.  But  still,  at  the 
word  love,  at  the  name  of  marriage,  her  heart  recoiled ; 
and  the  lost,  the  faithless,  came  back  to  his  fatal  throne. 
In  choked  and  broken  accents,  she  startled  the  banker 
with  the  refusal  —  the  faltering,  tearful,  but  resolute  re- 
fusal —  of  his  suit. 

But  Templeton  brought  new  engines  to  work:  he 
wooed  her  through  her  child ;  he  painted  all  the  bril- 

33 


514  ALICE ;  on,  the  mysteries. 

liant  prospects  that  would  open  to  the  infant  by  her 
marriage  with  him.  He  would  cherish,  rear,  provide 
for  it  as  his  own.  This  shook  her  resolves;  but  this 
did  not  prevail.  He  had  recourse  to  a  more  generous 
appeal:  he  told  her  so  much  of  his  history  with  Mary 
Westbrook  as  commenced  with  his  hasty  and  indecorous 
marriage,  —  attributing  the  naste  to  love!  —  made  her 
comprehend  his  scruples  in  owning  the  child  of  a  union 
the  world  would  be  certain  to  ridicule  or  condemn;  he 
expatiated  on  the  inestimable  blessings  she  could  afford 
him,  by  delivering  him  from  all  embarrassment,  and 
restoring  his  daughter,  though  under  a  borrowed  name, 
to  her  father's  roof.  At  this  Alice  mused;  at  this  she 
seemed  irresolute.  She  had  long  seen  how  inexpres- 
sibly dear  to  Templeton  Avas  the  child  confided  to  her 
care;  how  he  grew  pale  if  the  slightest  ailment  reached 
her ;  how  he  chafed  at  the  very  wind  if  it  visited  her 
cheek  too  roughly;  and  she  now  said  to  him  simply, — 

"Is  your  child,  in  truth,  your  dearest  object  in  life? 
Is  it  with  her,  and  her  alone,  that  your  dearest  hopes 
are  connected  ?  " 

"It  is!  it  is  indeed!  "  said  the  banker,  honestly 
surprised  out  of  his  gallantry, — "at  least,"  he  added, 
recovering  his  self-possession,  "  as  much  so  as  is  com- 
patible with  my  affection  for  you." 

"  And  only  if  I  marry  you,  and  adopt  her  as  my  own, 
do  you  think  that  your  secret  may  be  safely  kept,  and 
all  your  wishes  with  respect  to  her  be  fulfilled  ?  " 

"Only  so." 

"And  for  that  reason  chiefly,  nay,  entirely,  you  con- 
descend to  forget  what  I  have  been,  and  seek  my  hand? 
Well,  if  that  were  all,  I  owe  you  too  much;  my  poor 
babe  tells  me  too  loudly  what  I  owe  you,  to  draw  back 
from  anything  that  can  give  you  so  blessed  an  enjoy- 


•     ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  515 

ment.  Ah!  one's  child,  one's  own  child,  under  one's 
own  roof,  —  it  is  such  a  blessing!  But  then,  if  I  marry 
you,  it  can  be  only  to  secure  to  you  that  object;  to  be 
as  a  mother  to  your  child,  but  wife  only  in  name  to 
you.  I  am  not  so  lost  as  to  despise  myself.  I  know 
now,  though  I  knew  it  not  at  first,  that  I  have  been 
guilty ;  nothing  can  excuse  that  guilt  but  fidelity  to 
him/  Oh,  yes!  I  never,  never  can  be  unfaithful  to 
my  babe's  father!  As  for  all  else,  dispose  of  me  as  you 
will."  And  Alice,  who  from  very  innocence  had  ut- 
tered all  this  without  a  blush,  now  clasped  her  hands 
passionately,  and  left  Templeton  speechless  with  morti- 
fication and  surprise. 

When  he  recovered  himself,  he  affected  not  to  under- 
stand her;  but  Alice  was  not  satisfied,  and  all  further 
conversation  ceased.  He  began  slowly,  and  at  last, 
and  after  repeated  conferences  and  urgings,  to  compre- 
hend how  strange  and  stubborn  in  some  points  was  the 
humble  creature  whom  his  proposals  so  highly  honored. 
Though  his  daughter  was  indeed  his  first  object  in  life; 
though  for  her  he  was  willing  to  make  a  mesalliance, 
the  extent  of  which  it  would  be  incumbent  on  him 
studiously  to  conceal, — yet  still,  the  beauty  of  Alice 
awoke  an  earthlier  sentiment  that  he  was  not  disposed 
to  conquer.  He  was  quite  willing  to  make  promises, 
and  talk  generously;  but  when  it  came  to  an  oath,  a 
solemn,  a  binding  oath,  —  and  this  Alice  rigidly  ex- 
acted, —  he  was  startled,  and  drew  back.  Though  hypo- 
critical, he  was,  as  we  have  before  said,  a  most  sincere 
believer.  He  might  creep  through  a  promise  with  un- 
bruised  conscience ;  but  he  was  not  one  who  could  have 
dared  to  violate  an  oath,  and  lay  the  load  of  perjury  on 
his  soul.  Perhaps,  after  all,  the  union  never  would 
have  taken  place,  but  Templeton  fell  ill;  that  soft  and 


516  ALICE;   OK,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

relaxing  air  did  not  agree  with  him;  alow  but  dan- 
gerous fever  seized  him,  and  the  worldly  man  trembled 
at  the  aspect  of  death.  It  was  in  this  illness  that  Alice 
nursed  him  with  a  daughter's  vigilance  and  care;  and 
when  at  length  he  recovered,  impressed  with  her  zeal 
and  kindness,  softened  by  illness,  afraid  of  the  ap- 
proach of  solitary  age,  and  feeling  more  than  ever  his 
duties  to  his  motherless  child,  he  threw  himself  at 
Alice's  feet,  and  solemnly  vowed  all  that  she  required. 

It  was  during  this  residence  in  Devonshire,  and  espe- 
cially diiring  his  illness,  that  Templeton  made  and 
cultivated  the  acquaintance  of  Mr.  Aubrey.  The  good 
clergyman  prayed  with  him  by  his  sick-bed;  and  when 
Templeton's  danger  was  at  its  height,  he  sought  to 
relieve  his  conscience  by  a  confession  of  his  wrongs  to 
Mary  VVestbrook.  The  name  startled  Aubrey;  and 
when  he  learned  that  the  lovely  child  who  had  so  often 
sat  on  his  knee,  and  smiled  in  his  face,  was  the  grand- 
daughter of  his  first  and  only  love,  he  had  a  new  interest 
in  her  welfare,  a  new  reason  to  urge  Templeton  to  repa- 
ration, a  new  motive  to  desire  to  procure  for  the  infant 
years  of  Eleanor's  grandchild  the  gentle  care  of  the 
young  mother,  whose  own  bereavement  he  sorrowfully 
foretold.  Perhaps  the  advice  and  exhortations  of  Au- 
brey went  far  towards  assisting  the  conscience  of  Mr. 
Templeton,  and  reconciling  him  to  the  sacrifice  he  made 
to  liis  affection  for  his  daughter.  Be  that  as  it  may,  he 
married  Alice,  and  Aubrey  solemnized  and  blessed  the 
chill  and  barren  union. 

But  now  came  a  new  and  inexpressible  affliction  :  the 
child  of  Alice  had  rallied  but  for  a  time.  The  dread 
disease  had  but  dallied  with  its  prey:  it  came  on  with 
rapid  and  sudden  force;  and  within  a  month  from  the 
day  that  saw  Alice  the  bride  of  Templeton,  the   last 


ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  517 

hope  "Was  gone,  and  the  mother  was  bereft  and  child- 
less. 

The  blow  that  stunned  Alice  was  not,  after  the  first 
natural  shock  of  sympathy,  an  unwelcome  event  to  the 
banker.  Now  his  child  would  be  Alice's  sole  care; 
now  there  could  be  no  gossip,  no  suspicion  why,  in  life 
and  after  death,  he  should  prefer  one  child,  supposed 
not  his  own,  to  the  other. 

He  hastened  to  remove  Alice  from  the  scene  of  her 
affliction.  He  dismissed  the  solitary  attendant  who 
had  accompanied  her  on  her  journey;  he  bore  his  wife 
to  London,  and  finally  settled,  as  we  have  seen,  at  a 
villa  in  its  vicinity.  And  there,  more  and  more,  day 
by  day,  centred  his  love  upon  the  supposed  daughter  of 
Mrs.  Templeton,  his  darling  and  his  heiress,  the 
beautiful  Evelyn  Cameron. 

For  the  first  year  or  two,  Templeton  evinced  some 
alarming  disposition  to  escape  from  the  oath  he  had 
imposed  upon  himself;  but,  on  the  slightest  hint,  there 
was  a  sternness  in  the  wife,  in  all  else  so  respectful,  so 
submissive,  that  repressed  and  awed  him.  She  even 
threatened,  and  at  one  time  was  with  difficulty  prevented 
carrying  the  threat  into  effect,  to  leave  his  roof  forever, 
if  there  were  the  slightest  question  of  the  sanctity  of  his 
vow.  Templeton  trembled:  such  a  separation  would 
excite  gossip,  curiosity,  scandal,  a  noise  in  the  world,  pub- 
lic talk,  possible  discovery.  Besides,  Alice  was  neces- 
sary to  Evelyn,  necessary  to  his  own  comfort;  something 
to  scold  in  health,  something  to  rely  upon  in  illness. 
Gradually  then,  but  sullenly,  he  reconciled  himself  to 
his  lot;  and  as  years  and  infirmities  grew  upon  him,  he 
was  contented,  at  least,  to  have  secured  a  faithful  friend 
and  an  anxious  nurse.  Still  a  marriage  of  this  sort 
•was  not  blessed:  Templeton's  vanity  was  wounded ;  his 


518  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

temper,  always  harsh,  was  soured;  he  avenged  hi» 
affront  by  a  thousand  petty  tyrannies;  and,  without  a 
murmur,  Alice  perhaps,  in  those  years  of  rank  and 
opulence,  suffered  more  than  in  all  her  roofless  wander- 
ings, with  love  at  her  heart  and  her  infant  in  her  arms. 

Evelyn  was  to  be  the  heiress  to  the  wealth  of  the 
banker.  But  the  title  oi  the  new  peer!  —  if  he  could 
iinite  weal  til  and  title,  and  set  the  coronet  on  that  young 
brow!  This  had  led  him  to  seek  the  alliance  with  Lum- 
ley.  And  on  his  death-bed,  it  was  not  the  secret  of 
Alice,  but  that  of  Mary  Westbrook  and  his  daughter, 
Avhich  he  had  revealed  to  his  dismayed  and  astonished 
nephew,  in  excuse  for  the  apparently  unjust  alienation 
of  his  property,  and  as  the  cause  of  the  alliance  he  had 
sought. 

While  her  husband,  if  husband  he  might  be  called, 
lived,  Alice  had  seemed  to  bury  in  her  bosom  her  re- 
gret (deep,  mighty,  passionate,  as  it  was)  for  her  lost 
child,  —  the  child  of  the  unforgotten  lover,  to  whom, 
through  such  trials,  and  amid  such  new  ties,  she  had 
been  faithful  from  first  to  last.  But  when  once  more 
free,  her  heart  flew  back  to  the  far  and  lowly  grave. 
Hence  her  yearly  visits  to  Brook-Green ;  hence  her  pur- 
chase of  the  cottage,  hallowed  by  memories  of  the  dead. 
There,  on  that  lawn,  had  she  borne  forth  the  fragile  form 
to  breathe  the  soft,  noontide  air;  there,  in  that  chamber, 
had  she  watched  and  hoped  and  prayed  and  despaired ; 
there,  in  that  quiet  burial-ground,  rested  the  beloved 
du.st.  But  Alice,  even  in  her  holiest  feelings,  was  not 
selfish :  she  forbore  to  gratify  the  first  wish  of  her  heart 
till  Evelyn's  education  was  sufficiently  advanced  to  en- 
able her  to  quit  the  neighborhood;  and  then,  to  the 
delight  of  Aubrey  (who  saw  in  Evelyn  a  fairer  and 
nobler  and    purer  Eleanor),   she  came   to   the    solitary 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  519 

spot,  which,  in  all  the  earth,  was  the  least  solitary  to 
her. 

And  now  the  image  of  the  lover  of  her  youth  —  which, 
during  her  marriage,  she  had  sougld,  at  least,  to  banish 
—  returned  to  her,  and  at  times  inspired  her  with  the 
only  hopes  that  the  grave  had  not  yet  transferred  to 
heaven!  In  relating  her  tale  to  Aubrey,  or  in  convers- 
ing with  Mrs.  Leslie,  whose  friendship  she  still  main- 
tained, she  found  that  both  concurred  in  thinking  that 
this  obscure  and  wandering  Butler,  so  skilled  in  an  art 
in  which  eminence  in  men  is  generally  professional, 
must  be  of  mediocre,  or  perhaps  humble  station.  Ah! 
now  that  she  was  free  and  rich,  if  she  were  to  meet  him 
again,  and  his  love  was  not  all  gone,  and  he  would  be- 
lieve in  her  strange  and  constant  truth,  —  now,  his  in- 
fidelity could  be  forgiven,  forgotten  in  the  benefits  it 
might  be  hers  to  bestow!  And  how,  poor  Alice,  in 
that  remote  village,  was  chance  to  throw  him  in  your 
way?  She  knew  not;  but  something  often  whispered 
to  her,  "  Again  you  shall  meet  those  eyes ;  again  you 
shall  hear  that  voice;  and  you  shall  tell  him,  weeping 
on  his  breast,  how  you  loved  his  child!  "  And  would  he 
not  have  forgotten  her?  Would  he  not  have  formed 
new  ties?  Could  he  read  the  loveliness  of  unchange- 
able affection  in  that  pale  and  pensive  face?  Alas! 
when  we  love-  intensely,  it  is  difficult  to  make  us  fancy 
that  there  is  no  love  in  return. 

The  reader  is  acquainted  with  the  adventures  of  Mrs. 
Elton,  the  sole  confidant  of  the  secret  union  of  Temple- 
ton  and  Evelyn's  mother.  By  a  singular  fatality,  it  was 
the  selfish  and  characteristic  recklessness  of  Vargrave  that 
had,  in  fixing  her  home  at  Burleigh,  ministered  to  the 
revelation  of  his  own  villanous   deceit.     On  returning 


520  ALICE  ;   OR,    THE   MYSTERIES. 

to  England  she  liad  inquired  for  Mr.  Templeton;  she 
had  learned  that  he  had  married  again,  had  been  raised 
to  the  peerage  under  the  title  of  Lord  Vargrave,  and 
was  gathered  to  his  fathers.  She  had  no  claim  on  his 
widow  or  his  family.  But  the  unfortunate  child  who 
should  have  inherited  his  property,  —  she  could  only 
suppose  her  dead. 

When  she  first  saw  Evelyn,  she  was  startled  by  her 
likeness  to  her  unfortunate  mother.  But  thu  unfamiliar 
name  of  Cameron,  the  intelligence  received  from  Mal- 
travers  that  Evelyn's  mother  still  lived,  dispelled  her 
suspicions;  and  though  at  times  the  resemblance 
haunted  her,  she  dou])ted  and  inquired  no  more.  In 
fact,  her  own  infirmities  grew  upon  her,  and  pain 
usurped  her  thoughts. 

Now  it  so  happened  that  the  news  of  the  engagement 
of  ]\raltravers  to  Miss  Cameron  became  known  to  the 
county  but  a  little  time  before  he  arrived,  —  for  news 
travels  slow  from  the  Continent  to  our  provinces,  — 
and,  of  course,  excited  all  the  comment  of  the  vil- 
lagers. Her  nurse  repeated  the  tale  to  Mrs.  Elton, 
who  instantly  remembered  the  name,  and  recalled  the 
resemblance  of  Miss  Cameron  to  the  unfortunate  Mary 
Westbrook. 

"And,"  said  the  gossiping  nurse,  "  she  was  engaged, 
they  say,  to  a  great  lord,  and  gave  him  up  for  the 
squire,  — a  great  lord  in  the  court,  who  had  been  staying 
at  Parson  Merton's,  Lord  Vargrave !  " 

"  Lord  Vargrave!  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Elton,  remember- 
ing the  title  to  which  Mr.  Templeton  had  been  raised. 

"  Yes ;  they  do  say  as  how  the  late  lord  left  ]\Iiss 
Cameron  all  his  money  —  such  a  heap  of  it,  though  she 
was  not  his  child  —  over  the  head  of  his  nevy ,  the  pres- 
ent lord,  on  the  understanding  like  that  tliey  were  to  be 


ALICE  ;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES.  521 

married  when  she  came  of  age.  But  she  would  not  take 
to  him  after  she  had  seen  the  squire.  And,  to  be  sure, 
the  squire  is  the  finest-looking  gentleman  in  the 
county. " 

"Stop,  stop!"  said  Mrs.  Elton,  feebly;  "the  late 
lord  left  all  his  fortune  to  Miss  Cameron  ?  — ■  not  his 
child!  I  guess  the  riddle;  I  understand  it  all!  —  my 
foster-child!  "  she  murmured,  turning  away.  "  How 
could  I  have  mistaken  that  likeness?  " 

The  agitation  of  the  discovery  she  supposed  she  had 
made,  her  joy  at  the  thought  that  the  child  she  had 
loved  as  her  own  was  alive  and  possessed  of  its  rights, 
expedited  the  progress  of  Mrs.  Elton's  disease;  and  Mal- 
travers  arrived  just  in  time  to  learn  her  confession 
(which  she  naturally  wished  to  make  to  one  who  was  at 
once  her  benefactor,  and  supposed  to  be  the  destined 
husband  of  her  foster-child),  and  to  be  agitated  with 
hope,  with  joy,  at  her  solemn  conviction  of  the  truth  of 
her  surmises.  If  Evelyn  were  not  his  daughter,  even 
if  not  to  be  his  bride,  — what  a  weight  from  his  soul! 
He  hastened  to  Brook-Green;  and  dreading  to  rush  at 
once  to  the  presence  of  Alice,  he  recalled  Aubrey  to  his 
recollection.  In  the  interview  he  sought,  all,  or  at 
least  much,  was  cleared  up.  He  saw  at  once  the  pre- 
meditated and  well-planned  villany  of  Vargrave.  And 
Alice,  her  tale,, her  sufferings,  her  indomitable  love, — 
how  should  he  meet  her  ? 


522  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Yet  once  more,  O  ye  laurels  !  and  once  more. 
Ye  myrtles ! 

Lycidas. 

While  Maltravers  was  yet  agitated  and  excited  by  the 
disclosures  of  the  curate,  to  whom,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
he  had  divulged  his  own  identity  with  the  mysterious 
Butler,  Aubrey,  turning  his  eyes  to  the  casement,  saw 
the  form  of  Lady  Vargrave  slowly  approaching  towards 
the  house. 

"  Will  you  withdraw  to  the  inner  room  ?  "  said  he. 
"  She  is  coming;  you  are  not  yet  prepared  to  meet  her! 
Nay,  would  it  be  well  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes;  I  am  prepared, — we  must  be  alone.  I 
will  await  her  here." 

"But—" 

"  Nay,  I  implore  you!  " 

The  curate,  without  another  word  retired  into  the 
inner  apartment;  and  Maltravers,  sinking  in  a  chair, 
breathlessly  awaited  the  entrance  of  Lady  Vargrave. 
He  soon  heard  the  light  step  without;  the  door,  which 
opened  at  once  on  the  old-fashioned  parlor,  was  gently 
unclosed,  and  Lady  Vargrave  was  in  the  room.  In  the 
position  he  had  taken,  only  the  outline  of  Ernest's  form 
was  seen  by  Alice,  and  the  daylight  came  dim  through 
the  cottage  casement ;  and  seeing  some  one  seated  in  the 
curate's  accustomed  chair,  she  could  but  believe  that  it 
was  Aubrey  himself. 

"  Do  not  let  me  interrujjt  you,"  said  that  sweet,  low 
voice,  whose  music  had  been  dumb  for  so  many  years  to 


ALICE;   OK,   THE   MYSTERIES.  523 

Maltravers ;  "  but  I  have  a  letter  from  France ,  from  a 
stranger.  It  alarms  me  so,  —  it  is  about  Evelyn;  "  and 
as  if  to  imply  that  she  meditated  a  longer  visit  than 
ordinary,  Lady  Vargrave  removed  her  bonnet, and  placed 
it  on  the  table.  Surprised  that  the  curate  had  not 
answered,  had  not  come  forward  to  welcome  her,  she 
then  approached ;  Maltravers  rose ,  and  they  stood  before 
each  other,  face  to  face.     And  how  lovely  still  was  Alice, 

—  lovelier,  he  thought,  even  than  of  old!  And  those 
eyes,  so  divinely  blue,  so  dovelike  and  soft,  yet  with 
some  spiritual  and  unfathomable  mysterj'^  in  their  clear 
depth,  were  once  more  fixed  upon  him.  Alice  seemed 
turned  to  stone;  she  moved  not;  she  spoke  not, — she 
scarcely  breathed ;  she  gazed  spellbound ,  as  if  her  senses 

—  as  if  life  itself  —  had  deserted  her. 

"Alice!"  murmured  Maltravers,  —  "Alice,  we  meet 
at  last!" 

His  voice  restored  memory,  consciousness,  youth,  at 
once  to  her.  She  uttered  a  loud  cry  of  unspeakable  joy, 
of  rapture!  She  sprang  forward,  reserve,  fear,  time, 
change ,  all  forgotten ;  she  threw  herself  into  his  arms ; 
she  clasped  him  to  her  heart  again  and  again.  The 
faithful  dog  that  has  found  his  master  expresses  not  his 
transport  more  micontrollably ,  more  wildly.  It  was 
something  fearful,  —  the  excess  of  her  ecstasy.  She 
kissed  his  hands,  his  clothes;  she  laughed;  she  wept; 
and  at  last,  as  words  came,  she  laid  her  head  on  his 
breast,  and  said  passionately,  "  I  have  been  true  to  thee! 
I  have  been  true  to  thee,  or  this  hour  would  have  killed 
me!  "  Then,  as  if  alarmed  by  his  silence,  she  looked 
up  into  his  face,  and  as  his  burning  tears  fell  upon  her 
cheek,  she  said  again,  and  with  more  hurried  vehemence, 
"  I  have  been  faithful ;  do  you  not  believe  me  1 " 

"  I  do,  I  do,  noble ,  unequalled  Alice !    Why ,  why  were 


524  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

you  SO  long  lost  to  me  ?  Why  now  does  your  love  so 
shame  my  own  1 " 

At  these  words  Alice  appeared  to  awaken  from  her 
first  oblivion  of  all  that  had  chanced  since  they  met; 
she  blushed  deeply,  and  drew  herself  gently  and  bash- 
fully from  his  embrace.  "  Ah!  "  she  said,  in  altered 
and  humbled  accents,  "  you  have  loved  another!  perhaps 
you  have  no  love  left  for  me!  Is  it  so?  Is  it?  No,  no; 
these  eyes  —  you  love  me  —  you  love  me  still!  " 

And  again  she  clung  to  him,  as  if  it  were  heaven  to 
believe  all  things,  and  death  to  doubt.  Then,  after  a 
pause,  she  drew  him  gently  with  both  her  hands  towards 
the  light,  and  gazed  upon  him  fondly,  proudly,  as  if  to 
tiace,  line  by  line,  and  feature  by  feature,  the  counte- 
nance which  had  been  to  her  sweet  thoughts  as  the 
sunlight  to  the  flowers.  "Changed,  changed,"  she 
muttered;  "but  still  the  same, — still  beautiful,  still 
divine !  "  She  stopped ;  a  sudden  thought  struck  her : 
his  garments  were  worn  and  soiled  by  travel,  and  that 
princely  crest,  fallen  and  dejected,  no  longer  towered  in 
proud  defiance  above  the  sons  of  men.  "  You  are  not 
rich,"  she  exclaimed  eagerly,  —  "say  you  are  not  rich! 
I  am  rich  enough  for  both ;  it  is  all  yours,  —  all  yours. 
I  did  not  betray  you  for  it;  there  is  no  shame  in  it. 
Oh,  we  shall  be  so  happy!  Thou  art  come  back  to  thy 
poor  Alice!  thou  knowest  how  she  loved  thee!  " 

There  was  in  Alice's  manner,  her  wild  joy,  something 
so  different  from  her  ordinary  self,  that  none  who  could 
have  seen  her,  quiet,  pensive,  subdued,  Avould  have 
fancied  her  the  same  being.  All  that  society  and  its 
woes  had  taught  were  gone,  and  Nature  once  more 
claimed  her  fairest  child.  The  very  years  seemed  to 
have  fallen  from  her  brow,  and  she  looked  scarcely 
older  than  when  she  had  stood  with  him  beneath  the 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  525 

moonlight  by  the  violet  banks  far  away.  Suddenly  her 
color  faded;  the  smile  passed  from  the  dimpled  lips;  a 
sad  and  solemn  aspect  succeeded  to  that  expression  of 
passionate  joy.  "  Come,"  she  said  in  a  whisper,  — 
"come,  follow;"  and  still  clasping  his  hand,  she 
drew  him  to  the  door.  Silent  and  wonderingly  he  fol- 
lowed her  across  the  lawn,  through  the  moss-grown  gate, 
and  into  the  lonely  burial-ground.  She  moved  on  with 
a  noiseless  and  gliding  step,  —  so  pale,  so  hushed,  so 
breathless,  that  even  in  the  noonday  you  might  have 
half  fancied  the  fair  shape  was  not  owned  by  earth. 
She  paused  where  the  yew-tree  cast  its  gloomy  shadow ; 
and  the  small  and  tombless  mound,  separated  from  the 
rest,  was  before  them.  She  pointed  to  it,  and  falling 
on  her  knees  beside  it,  murmured,  "Hush!  it  sleeps 
below, — thy  child!  "  She  covered  her  face  with  both 
her  hands,  and  her  form  shook  convulsively.  Beside 
that  form,  and  before  that  grave,  knelt  Maltravers. 
There  vanished  the  last  remnant  of  his  stoic  pride ;  and 
there  —  Evelyn  herself  forgotten  —  there  did  he  pray  to 
Heaven  for  pardon  to  himself,  and  blessings  on  the  heart 
he  had  betrayed.  There  solemnly  did  he  vow,  the 
remainder  of  his  years,  to  guard  from  all  future  ill  the 
faithful  and  childless  mother. 


526  ALICE;   OK,   THE   MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Will  Tortune  never  come  with  both  hands  full, 
But  write  her  fair  words  still  in  foulest  letters  ? 

Henry  1  V.,  Part  IL 

I  PASS  over  those  explanations,  that  record  of  Alice's 
eventful  history,  which  Mai tra vers  learned  from  her 
own  lips,  to  confirm  and  add  to  the  narrative  of  the 
curate,  the  purport  of  which  is  already  known  to  the 
reader. 

It  was  many  hours  before  Alice  was  sufficiently  com- 
posed to  remember  the  object  for  which  she  had  sought 
the  curate.  But  she  had  laid  the  letter  which  she  had 
brought,  and  which  explained  all,  on  the  table  at  the 
vicarage;  and  when  Maltravers,  having  at  last  induced 
Alice,  who  seemed  afraid  to  lose  sight  of  him  for  an 
instant,  to  retire  to  her  room,  and  seek  some  short  re- 
pose, returned  towards  the  vicarage,  he  met  Aubrey  in 
the  garden.  The  old  man  had  taken  the  friend's  ac- 
knowledged license  to  read  the  letter  evidently  meant 
for  his  eye;  and  alarmed  and  anxious,  he  now  eagerly 
sought  a  consultation  with  Maltravers.  The  letter, 
written  in  English,  as  familiar  to  the  writer  as  her 
own  tongue,  was  from  Madame  de  Ventadour.  It  had 
been  evidently  dictated  by  the  kindest  feelings.  After 
apologizing  briefly  for  her  interference,  she  stated  that 
Lord  Vargrave's  marriage  with  Miss  Cameron  was  now 
a  matter  of  public  notoriety ;  that  it  would  take  place 
in  a  few  days;  that  it  was  observed  with  suspicion 
that  Miss  Cameron  appeared  nowhere;  that  she  seemed 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  527 

almost  a  prisoner  in  her  room ;  that  certain  expressions 
which  had  dropped  from  Lady  Doltimore  had  alarmed 
her  greatly.  According  to  these  expressions,  it  would 
seem  that  Lady  Vargrave  was  not  apprised  of  the  ap- 
proaching event;  that,  considering  Miss  Cameron's 
recent  engagement  to  Mr.  Maltravers,  suddenly  (and, 
as  Valerie  thought,  unaccountably)  broken  off,  on  the 
arrival  of  Lord  Vargrave;  considering  her  extreme 
youth,  her  brilliant  fortune;  and,  Madame  de  Venta- 
dour  delicately  hinted,  considering  also  Lord  Vargrave 's 
character  for  unscrupulous  determination  in  the  further- 
ance of  any  object  on  which  he  was  bent,  —  considering 
all  this,  Madame  de  Ventadour  had  ventured  to  address 
Miss  Cameron's  mother,  and  to  guard  her  against  the 
possibility  of  design  or  deceit.  Her  best  apology  for 
her  intrusion  must  be ,  her  deep  interest  in  Miss  Cam- 
eron, and  her  long  friendship  for  one  to  whom  Miss 
Cameron  had  been  so  lately  betrothed.  If  Lady  Var- 
grave were  aware  of  the  new  engagement,  and  had  sanc- 
tioned it,  of  course  her  intrusion  was  unseasonable  and 
superfluous,  but  if  ascribed  to  its  real  motive,  would 
not  be  the  less  forgiven. 

It  was  easy  for  Maltravers  to  see  in  this  letter  how 
generous  and  zealous  had  been  that  friendship  for  him- 
self which  could  have  induced  the  woman  of  the  world 
to  undertake  so  officious  a  task.  But  of  this  he  thought 
not,  as  he  hurried  over  the  lines,  and  shuddered  at 
Evelyn's  urgent  danger. 

"This  intelligence,"  said  Aubrey,  "must  be,  indeed, 
a  surprise  to  Lady  Vargrave.  For  we  have  not  heard  a 
word  from  Evelyn  or  Lord  Vargrave  to  announce  such 
a  marriage;  and  she  (and  myself,  till  this  day)  believed 

that  the  engagement  between  Evelyn  and  Mr.  ,  I 

mean,"  said  Aubrey,  with  confusion,  —  "I  mean  your- 


o28  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

self,  was  still  in  force.  Lord  Vargrave's  villany  is 
apparent;  we  must  act  immediately.  What  is  to  be 
done  1  " 

"  I  will  return  to  Paris  to-morrow ;  I  will  defeat  his 
machinations,  —  expose  his  falsehood!" 

"  You  may  need  a  proxy  for  Lady  Vargrave ,  an  au- 
thority for  Evelyn, — one  whom  Lord  Vargrave  knows 
to  possess  the  secret  of  her  birth,  her  rights;  I  will  go 
with  you.     We  must  speak  to  Lady  Vargrave !  " 

Maltravers  turned  sharply  round.  "  And  Alice  knows 
not  who  I  am:  that  I  —  I  am,  or  was,  a  few  weeks  ago, 
the  suitor  of  another;  and  that  other  the  child  she  has 
reared  as  her  own!  Unhappy  Alice!  in  the  very  hour 
of  her  joy  at  my  return,  is  she  to  writhe  beneath  this 
new  affliction  1  " 

"  Shall  I  break  it  to  her?  "  said  Aubrey,  pityingly. 

"  No,  no;  these  lips  must  inflict  the  last  wrong!  " 

Maltravers  walked  away,  and  the  curate  saw  him  no 
more  till  night. 

In  the  interval,  and  late  in  the  evening,  Maltravers 
rejoined  Alice. 

The  fire  burned  clear  on  the  hearth ;  the  curtains  were 
drawn;  the  pleasant  but  simple  drawing-room  of  the 
cottage  smiled  its  welcome  as  Maltravers  entered,  and 
Alice  sprang  up  to  greet  him.  It  was  as  if  the  old  days 
of  the  music-lesson  and  the  meerschaum  had  come  back. 

"This  is  yours,"  said  Alice,  tenderly,  as  she  looked 
round  the  apartment.  "  Now  —  now  I  know  what  a 
blessed  thing  riches  are!  Ah,  you  are  looking  on  that 
picture :  it  is  of  her  who  supplied  your  daughter's  place ; 
she  is  so  beautiful,  so  good,  you  will  love  her  as  a 
daughter.  Oh,  that  letter,  that  —  that  letter!  I  forgot 
it  till  now;  it  is  at  the  vicarage.  I  must  go  there  im- 
mediately, and  you  will  come  too;  you  will  advise  us." 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  529 

"Alice,  I  have  read  the  letter,  —  I  know  all.  Alice, 
sit  down  and  hear  me ;  it  is  you  who  have  to  learn  from 
me.  In  our  young  days  I  was  accustomed  to  tell  you 
stories  in  winter  nights  like  these  —  stories  of  love  like 
our  own  —  of  sorrows  which,  at  that  time,  we  only  knew 
by  hearsay.  I  have  one  now  for  your  ear,  truer  and 
sadder  than  they  were.  Two  children,  for  they  were 
then  little  more,  —  children  in  ignorance  of  the  world, 
children  in  freshness  of  heart,  children  almost  in 
years,  —  were  thrown  together  by  strange  vicissitudes 
more  than  eighteen  years  ago.  They  were  of  different 
sexes;  they  loved  and  they  erred.  But  the  error  was 
solely  with  the  boy ;  for  what  was  innocence  in  her  was 
but  passion  in  him.  He  loved  her  dearly ;  but  at  that 
age  her  qualities  were  half  developed.  He  knew  her 
beautiful,  simple,  tender;  but  he  knew  not  all  the 
virtaie,  the  faith,  and  the  nobleness  that  Heaven  had 
planted  in  her  soul.  They  parted;  they  knew  not 
each  other's  fate.  He  sought  her  anxiously,  but  in 
vain:  and  sorrow  and  remorse  long  consumed  him,  and 
her  memory  threw  a  shadow  over  his  existence.  But 
again  —  for  his  love  had  not  the  exalted  holiness  of  hers 
{she  was  true !)  —  he  sought  to  renew  in  others  the  charm 
he  had  lost  with  her.  In  vain,  —  long,  long  in  vain. 
Alice,  you  know  to  whom  the  tale  refers.  Nay,  listen 
yet.  I  have  heard  from  the  old  man  yonder  that  you 
were  witness  to  a  scene  many  years  ago,  which  deceived 
you  into  the  belief  that  you  beheld  a  rival.  It  was 
not  so:  that  lady  yet  lives,  —  then,  as  now,  a  friend 
to  me;  nothing  more.  I  grant  that  at  one  time  my 
fancy  allured  me  to  her,  but  my  heart  was  still  true  to 
thee." 

"  Bless  you  for  those  words !  "  murmured  Alice ;  and 
she  crept  more  closely  to  him. 

34 


530  ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

He  went  on.  "  Circumstances,  which  at  some  calmer 
occasion  you  shall  hear,  again  nearly  connected  my  fate 
by  marriage  to  another.  I  had  then  seen  you  at  a  dis- 
tance, unseen  by  you,  —  seen  you  apparently  surrounded 
by  respectability  and  opulence;  and  I  blessed  Heaven 
that  your  lot,  at  least,  was  not  that  of  penury  and  want." 
(Here  Maltravers  related  where  he  had  caught  that  brief 
glimpse  of  Alice  ,^  —  how  he  had  sought  for  her  again 
and  again  in  vain.)  "  From  that  hour,"  he  continued, 
"  seeing  you  in  circumstances  of  which  I  could  not  have 
dared  to  dream,  I  felt  more  reconciled  to  the  past;  yet 
when  on  the  verge  of  marriage  with  another,  —  beauti- 
ful, gifted,  generous  as  she  was,  —  a  thought,  a  memory 
half  acknowledged,  dimly  traced,  chained  back  my  sen- 
timents; and  admiration,  esteem,  and  gratitude  were 
not  love!  Death  —  a  death  melancholy  and  tragic  — 
forbade  this  union;  and  I  went  forth  in  the  world,  a 
pilgrim  and  a  wanderer.  Years  rolled  away,  and  I 
thought  I  had  conquered  the  desire  for  love,  —  a  desire 
that  had  haunted  me  since  I  lost  thee.  But,  suddenly 
and  recently,  a  being,  beautiful  as  yourself,  —  sweet, 
guileless,  and  young  as  you  were  when  we  met,  —  woke 
in  me  a  new  and  a  strange  sentiment.  I  will  not  con- 
ceal it  from  you:  Alice,  at  last  I  loved  another!  Yet 
singular  as  it  may  seem  to  you,  it  was  a  certain  resem- 
blance to  yourself,  not  in  feature,  but  in  the  tones  of 
the  voice,  the  nameless  grace  of  gesture  and  manner, 
the  very  music  of  your  once  happy  laugh,  those  traits 
of  resemblance  which  I  can  now  account  for,  and  which 
children  catch  not  from  their  parents  only,  but  from 
those  they  most  see,  and  loving  most,  most  imitate  in 
tlioir  tender  years, — all  these,  I  say,  made  perhaps  a 
chief  attraction  that  drew  me  towards  (Alice,  are  you 
1  See  "  Ernest  Maltravers,"  Book  v.,  p.  299. 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  531 

prepared  for  it?)  drew  me  towards  Evelyn  Cameron. 
Know  me  in  my  real  character,  by  my  true  name:  I  am 
that  Maltravers  to  whom  the  hand  of  Evelyn  was  a  few 
weeks  ago  betrothed." 

He  paused,  and  ventured  to  look  up  at  Alice;  she  was 
exceedingly  pale,  and  her  hands  were  tightly  clasped 
together,  but  she  neither  wept  nor  spoke.  The  worst 
was  over;  he  continued  more  rapidly,  and  with  less 
constrained  an  effort:  "By  the  art,  the  duplicity,  the 
falsehood  of  Lord  Vargrave,  I  was  taught  in  a  sudden 
hour  to  believe  that  Evelyn  was  our  daughter;  that 
you  recoiled  from  the  prospect  of  beholding  once  more 
the  author  of  so  many  miseries,  I  need  not  tell  you, 
Alice,  of  the  horror  that  succeeded  to  love.  I  pass  over 
the  tortures  T  endured.  By  a  train  of  incidents,  to  be 
related  to  you  hereafter,  I  was  led  to  suspect  the  truth 
of  Vargrave 's  tale.  I  came  hither:  I  have  learned  all 
from  Aubrey.  I  regret  no  more  the  falsehood  that  so 
racked  me  for  the  time!  I  regret  no  more  the  rupture 
of  my  bond  with  Evelyn;  I  regret  nothing  that  brings 
me  at  last  free  and  unshackled  to  thy  feet,  and  acquaints 
me  with  thy  sublime  faith  and  ineffable  love.  Here, 
then,  —  here,  beneath  your  own  roof,  — here  he,  at  once 
your  earliest  friend  and  foe,  kneels  to  you  for  pardon 
and  for  hope!  He  woos  you  as  his  wife,  — his  compan- 
ion to  the  grave!  Forget  all  his  errors,  and  be  to 
him,  under  a  holier  name,  all  that  you  were  to  him 
of  old!" 

"  And  you  are  then  Evelyn's  suitor;  you  are  he  whom 
she  loves  1  I  see  it  all  —  all !  "  Alice  rose ;  and  before 
he  was  even  aware  of  her  purpose,  or  conscious  of  what 
she  felt,  she  had  vanished  from  the  room. 

Long,  and  with  the  bitterest  feelings,  he  awaited  her 
return ;  she  came  not.     At  last  he  wrote  a  hurried  note 


532  ALICE  ;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

imploring  her  to  join  him  again,  to  relieve  his  suspense, 
to  believe  his  sincerity,  to  accept  his  vows.  He  sent  it 
to  her  own  room,  to  which  she  had  hastened  to  bury  her 
emotions.  In  a  few  minutes  there  came  to  him  this 
answer  written  in  pencil,  blotted  with  tears :  — 

"  I  thank  you.  I  understand  your  heart ;  but  forgive  me,  — 
I  cannot  see  you  yet.  She  is  so  beautiful  and  good;  she  la 
worthy  of  you.  I  shall  soon  be  reconciled.  God  bless  you,  — 
bless  you  both  !  " 

The  door  of  the  vicarage  was  opened  abruptly;  and 
Maltravers  entered  with  a  hasty  but  heavy  tread. 

"  Go  to  her  —  go  to  that  angel  —  go,  I  beseech  you! 
Tell  her  that  she  wrongs  me  if  she  thinks  I  can  ever 
wed  another,  ever  have  an  object  in  life  but  to  atone  to 
—  to  merit  her.     Go;  plead  for  me." 

Aubrey,  who  soon  gathered  from  Maltravers  what  had 
passed,  departed  to  the  cottage;  it  was  near  midnight 
before  he  returned.  Maltravers  met  him  in  the  church- 
yard beside  the  yew-tree.  "Well,  well;  what  mes- 
sage do  you  bring?" 

"  She  wishes  that  we  should  both  set  off  for  Paris 
to-morrow.  Not  a  day  is  to  be  lost,  —  we  must  save 
Evelyn  from  this  snare." 

"  Evelyn!  Yes,  Evelyn  shall  be  saved;  but  the  rest, 
the  rest !     Why  do  you  turn  away  1  " 

"'You  are  not  the  poor  artist,  the  wandering  adven- 
turer; you  are  the  high-born,  the  wealthy,  the  renowned 
Maltravers:  Alice  has  nothing  to  confer  on  you.  You 
have  won  the  love  of  Evelyn;  Alice  cannot  doom  the 
child  confided  to  her  care  to  hopeless  affection.  You 
love  Evelyn;  Alice  cannot  compare  herself  to  the  young 
and  educated  and  beautiful  creature,  whose  love  is  a 
priceless  treasure.     Alice   prays  you  not  to  grieve  for 


ALICE;  OR,  THE  MYSTERIES.  533 

her;  she  will  soon  be  content  and  happy  in  your  hap- 
piness.'    This  is  the  message." 

"And  what  said  you?  Did  you  not  tell  her  such 
words  would  break  my  heart  1  " 

"No  matter  what  I  said.  I  mistrust  myself  when 
I  advise  her.  Her  feelings  are  truer  than  all  our 
wisdom !  " 

Maltravers  made  no  answer,  and  the  curate  saw  him 
gliding  rapidly  away  by  the  starlit  graves  towards  the 
village. 


534  ALICE  ;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Think  you  I  can  a  resolution  fetch 
From  flowery  tenderness  ? 

Measure  for  Pleasure. 

They  were  on  the  road  to  Dover.  Maltravers  leaned 
back  in  the  corner  of  the  carriage  with  his  hat  over  his 
brows,  though  the  morning  was  yet  too  dark  for  the 
curate  to  perceive  more  than  the  outline  of  his  features. 
Milestone  after  milestone  glided  by  the  wheels,  and 
neither  of  the  travellers  broke  the  silence.  It  was  a 
cold,  raw  morning;  and  the  mists  rose  sullenly  from  the 
dank  hedges  and  comfortless  fields. 

Stern  and  self-accusing  was  the  scrutiny  of  Maltravers 
into  the  recesses  of  his  conscience,  and  the  blotted  pages 
of  the  past.  That  pale  and  solitary  mother,  mourning 
over  the  grave  of  her  —  of  his  own  —  child,  rose  again 
before  his  eyes,  and  seemed  silently  to  ask  him  for  an 
account  of  the  heart  he  had  made  barren,  and  of  the 
youth  to  which  his  love  had  brought  the  joylessness  of 
age.  With  the  image  of  Alice,  afar,  alone,  —  whether 
in  her  wanderings,  a  beggar  and  an  outcast,  or  in  that 
hollow  prosperity,  in  which  the  very  ease  of  the  frame 
allowed  more  leisure  to  the  pinings  of  the  heart,  —  with 
that  image,  pure,  sorrowing,  and  faithful  from  first  to 
last,  he  compared  his  own  wild  and  wasted  youth,  his 
resort  to  fancy  and  to  passion  for  excitement.  He  con- 
trasted with  her  patient  resignation  his  own  arrogant 
rebellion  against  the  trials,  the  bitterness  of  which  his 


ALICE;  OR,    THE   MYSTERIES.  535 

proud  spirit  had  exaggerated,  —  his  contempt  for  the 
pursuits  and  aims  of  others,  the  imperious  indolence  of 
his  later  life,  and  his  forgetfulness  of  the  duties  which 
Providence  had  fitted  him  to  discharge.  His  mind, 
once  so  rudely  hurled  from  that  complacent  pedestal 
from  which  it  had  so  long  looked  down  on  men  and 
said,  "  I  am  wiser  and  better  than  you,"  became  even  too 
acutely  sensitive  to  its  own  infirmities ;  and  that  desire 
for  virtue  which  he  had  ever  deeply  entertained,  made 
itself  more  distinctly  and  loudly  heard  amidst  the  ruins 
and  the  silence  of  his  pride. 

From  the  contemplation  of  the  past,  he  roused  him- 
self to  face  the  future.  Alice  had  refused  his  hand; 
Alice  herself  had  ratified  and  blessed  his  union  with 
another!  Evelyn,  so  madly  loved,  — Evelyn  might  still 
be  his!  No  law,  from  the  violation  of  which,  even 
in  thought,  human  nature  recoils  appalled  and  horror- 
stricken,  forbade  him  to  reclaim  her  hand,  to  snatch 
her  from  the  grasp  of  Vargrave,  to  avoo  again,  and  again 
to  win  her!  But  did  Maltravers  welcome,  did  he  em- 
brace, that  thought?  Let  us  do  him  justice  :  he  did  not. 
He  felt  that  Alice's  resolution,  in  the  first  hour  of  mor- 
tified affection,  was  not  to  be  considered  final ;  and  even 
if  it  were  so,  he  felt  yet  more  deeply  that  her  love  —  the 
love  that  had  withstood  so  many  trials  —  never  could  be 
subdued.  Was  he  to  make  her  nobleness  a  curse  1  Was 
he  to  say,  "  Thou  hast  passed  away  in  thy  generation, 
and  I  leave  thee  again  to  thy  solitude,  for  her  whom 
thou  hast  cherished  as  a  child  "  ?  He  started  in  dismay 
from  the  thought  of  this  new  and  last  blow  upon  the 
shattered  spirit;  and  then  fresh  and  equally  sacred  ob- 
stacles between  Evelyn  and  himself  broke  slowly  on  his 
view.  Could  Templeton  rise  from  his  grave,  with  what 
resentment,  with  what  just  repugnance,  would  he  have 


536  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

regarded  in  the  betrayer  of  his  wife  (even  though  wife 
but  in  name)  the  suitor  to  his  child! 

These  thoughts  came  in  fast  and  fearful  force  upon 
Maltravers,  and  served  to  strengthen  his  honor  and  his 
conscience.  He  felt  that  though,  in  law,  there  was  no 
shadow  of  connection  between  Evelyn  and  himself,  yet 
his  tie  with  Alice  had  been  of  a  nature  that  ought  to 
separate  him  from  one  who  had  regarded  Alice  as  a 
mother.  The  load  of  horror,  the  agony  of  shame,  were 
indeed  gone;  but  still  a  voice  whispered  as  before, 
"  Evelyn  is  lost  to  thee  forever!  "  But  so  shaken  had 
already  been  her  image  in  the  late  storms  and  convul- 
sion of  his  soul ,  that  this  thought  was  preferable  to  the 
thought  of  sacrificing  Alice.  If  that  were  all  —  but 
Evelyn  might  still  love  him ;  and  justice  to  Alice  might 
be  misery  to  her.  He  started  from  his  reverie  with  a 
vehement  gesture,  and  groaned  audibly. 

The  curate  turned  to  address  to  him  some  words  of 
inquiry  and  surprise;  but  the  words  were  unheard,  and 
he  perceived,  by  the  advancing  daylight,  that  the  coun- 
tenance of  Maltravers  was  that  of  a  man  utterly  rapt  and 
absorbed  by  some  mastering  and  irresistible  thought. 
Wisely,  therefore,  he  left  his  companion  in  peace,  and 
returned  to  his  own  anxious  and  engrossing  meditations. 

The  travellers  did  not  rest  till  they  arrived  at  Dover. 
The  vessel  started  early  the  following  morning,  and 
Aubrey,  who  was  much  fatigued,  retired  to  rest.  Mal- 
travers glanced  at  the  clock  upon  the  mantel-piece;  it 
was  the  hour  of  nine.  For  him  there  was  no  hope  of 
sleep;  and  the  prospect  of  the  slow  night  was  that  of 
dreary  suspense  and  torturing  self-commune. 

As  he  turned  restlessly  in  his  seat,  the  waiter  entered 
to  say  that  there  was  a  gentleman  Avho  had,  caught  a 
glimpse  of  him  below  on  his  arrival ,  and  who  was  anx- 


ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  537 

ious  to  speak  with  him.  Before  Maltravers  could  an- 
swer, the  gentleman  himself  entered,  and  Maltravers 
recognized  Legard. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  the  latter,  in  a  tone  of 
great  agitation,  "  but  I  was  most  anxious  to  see  you  for 
a  few  moments.  I  have  just  returned  to  England,  —  all 
places  alike  hateful  to  me !     I  read  in  the  papers  —  an 

—  an  announcement  —  which  —  which  occasions  me  the 
greatest  —  I.  know  not  what  I  would  say  —  but  is  it 
true  t  Read  this  paragraph ;  "  and  Legard  placed  "  The 
Courier  "  before  Maltravers. 

The  passage  was  as  follows :  — 

"  It  is  whispered  that  Lord  Vargrave,  who  is  now  at  Paris,  is 
to  be  married  in  a  few  days  to  the  beautiful  and  wealthy  Miss 
Cameron,  to  whom  he  has  been  long  engaged." 

"Is  it  possible?"  exclaimed  Legard,  following  the 
eyes  of  Maltravers,  as  he  glanced  over  the  paragraph. 
"  Were  not  you  the  lover  —  the  accepted ,  the  happy  lover 

—  of  Miss  Cameron?     Speak,  tell  me,  I  implore  you! 

—  that  it  was  for  you,  who  saved  my  life  and  redeemed 
my  honor,  and  not  for  that  cold  schemer,  that  I  re- 
nounced all  my  hopes  of  earthly  happiness,  and  surren- 
dered the  dream  of  winning  the  heart  and  hand  of  the 
only  woman  I  ever  loved!" 

A  deep  shade  fell  over  the  features  of  Maltravers. 
He  gazed  earnestly  and  long  upon  the  working  coun- 
tenance of  Legard,  and  said,  after  a  pause, — 

"You,  too,  loved  her,  then?  I  never  knew  it, — 
never  guessed  it;  or  if  once  I  suspected,  it  was  but  for 
a  moment ;  and  —  " 

"Yes,"  interrupted  Legard,  passionately,  "Heaven 
is  my  witness  how  fervently  and  truly  I  did  love  —  1  do 
still  love  —  Evelyn  Cameron !     But  when  you  confessed 


538  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

to  me  your  affection,  your  hopes,  I  felt  all  that  I 
owed  you;  I  felt  that  I  never  ought  to  become  your 
rival.  I  left  Paris  abruptly.  What  I  have  suffered  I 
will  not  say ;  but  it  was  some  comfort  to  think  that  I 
had  acted  as  became  one  who  owed  you  a  debt  never 
to  be  cancelled  nor  repaid.  I  travelled  from  place  to 
place,  each  equally  hateful  and  wearisome;  at  last,  I 
scarce  know  why,  I  returned  to  England.  I  have 
arrived  this  day;  and  now  —  but  tell  me,  is  it  true?" 

"I  believe  it  true,"  said  Maltravers,  in  a  hollow 
voice,  "  that  Evelyn  is  at  this  moment  engaged  to  Lord 
Vargrave.  I  believe  it  equally  true  that  that  engage- 
ment, foimded  upon  false  impressions,  never  will  be 
fulfilled.  With  that  hope  and  that  belief,  I  am  on  my 
road  to  Paris." 

"  And  she  will  be  yours  still?  "  said  Legard,  turning 
away  his  face.  "  Well ,  that  I  can  bear ;  may  you  be 
happy ,  sir !  " 

"  Stay,  Legard,"  said  Maltravers,  in  a  voice  of  great 
feeling.  "Let  us  understand  each  other  better:  you 
have  renounced  your  passion  to  your  sense  of  honor." 
(Maltravers  paused  thoughtfully.)  "  It  was  noble  in 
you;  it  was  more  than  just  to  me;  I  thank  you  and 
respect  you.  P>ut,  Legard,  was  there  aught  in  the 
manner,  the  bearing,  of  Evelyn  Cameron,  that  could 
lead  you  to  suppose  that  she  would  have  returned  your 
affection?  True,  had  we  started  on  equal  terms,  I  am 
not  vain  enough  to  be  blind  to  your  advantages  of  youth 
and  person ;  but  1  believed  that  the  affections  of  Evelyn 
were  already  mine  before  we  met  at  Paris. " 

"  It  might  be  so,"  said  Legard,  gloomily;  "  nor  is  it 
for  me  to  say  that  a  heart  so  pure  and  generous  as 
Evelyn's  could  deceive  yourself  or  me.  Yet  I  had 
fancied,  —  I  had  hoped,  —  while  you  stood  aloof,  that 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  539 

the  partiality  with  which  she  regarded  you  was  that  of 
admiration  more  than  love;  that  you  had  dazzled  her 
imagination,  rather  than  won  her  heart.  I  had  hoped 
that  I  should  win,  —  that  I  was  winning  my  way  to  her 
affection.  But  let  this  pass ;  I  drop  the  subject  forever, 
—  only,  Maltravers,  only  do  me  justice.  You  are  a 
proud  man,  and  your  pride  has  often  irritated  and  stung 
me,  in  spite  of  my  gratitude.  Be  more  lenient  to  me 
than  you  have  been;  think  that,  though  I  have  my 
errors  and  my  follies,  I  am  still  capable  of  some  con- 
quests over  myself.  And  most  sincerely  do  I  now  wish 
that  Evelyn's  love  may  be  to  you  that  blessing  it  would 
have  been  to  me !  " 

This  was,  indeed,  a  new  triumph  over  the  pride  of 
Maltravers,  —  a  new  humiliation.  He  had  looked  with 
a  cold  contempt  on  this  man,  because  he  affected  not  to 
be  above  the  herd;  and  this  man  had  preceded  him  in 
the  very  sacrifice  he  himself  meditated. 

"  Legard,"  said  Maltravers,  and  a  faint  blush  over- 
spread his  face,  "  you  rebuke  me  justly.  I  acknowledge 
my  fault,  and  I  ask  you  to  forgive  it.  From  this  night, 
whatever  happens,  1  shall  hold  it  an  honor  to  be  ad- 
mitted to  your  friendship;  from  this  night,  George 
Legard  never  shall  find  in  me  the  offences  of  arrogance 
and  harshness." 

Legard  wrung  the  hand  held  out  to  him  warmly,  but 
made  no  answer;  his  heart  was  full,  and  he  would  not 
trust  himself  to  speak. 

"  You  think,  then,"  resvmied  Maltravers,  in  a  more 
thoughtful  tone ,  —  "  you  think  that  Evelyn  could  have 
loved  you,  had  my  pretensions  not  crossed  your  own? 
And  you  think ,  also ,  —  pardon  me ,  dear  Legard ,  —  that 
you  could  have  acquired  the  steadiness  of  character,  the 
firmness  of  purpose,  which  one  so  fair,  so  young,  so  in- 


540  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

experienced  and  susceptible,  so  surrounded  by  a  thousand 
temptations,  would  need  in  a  guardian  and  protector  1  " 

"Oh,  do  not  judge  of  me  by  what  I  have  been!  I 
feel  that  Evelyn  could  have  reformed  errors  worse  than 
mine ;  that  her  love  would  have  elevated  dispositions  yet 
more  light  and  commonplace.  You  do  not  know  what 
miracles  love  works!  But  now  what  is  there  left  for 
me  ?  What  matters  it  how  frivolous  and  poor  the  occu- 
pations which  can  distract  my  thoughts  and  bring  me 
forgetfulness  ?  Forgive  me  ;  I  have  no  right  to  obtrude 
all  this  egotism  on  you." 

"Do  not  despond,  Legard,"  said  MaltraA^ers,  kindly; 
"  there  may  be  better  fortunes  in  store  for  you  than  you 
yet  anticipate.  I  cannot  say  more  now;  but  will  you 
remain  at  Dover  a  few  days  longer?  Within  a  week 
you  shall  hear  from  me.  I  will  not  raise  hopes  that  it 
may  not  be  mine  to  realize.  But  if  it  be  as  you  think 
it  was  —  why  —  little,  indeed,  would  rest  with  me. 
Nay,  look  not  on  me  so  wistfully,"  added  Maltravers, 
with  a  mournful  smile ;  "  and  let  the  subject  close  for 
the  present.     You  will  stay  at  Dover  ? " 

"I  will;  but  —  " 

"  No  buts,  Legard;  it  is  so  settled." 


BOOK  XI. 

*0  AvOpwiros  ivepyerhs  necpvKws.  —  M.  AntONIN.  lib.  ix. 
Man  is  born  to  be  a  doer  of  good. 


BOOK  XI. 


CHAPTER  I. 

His  teeth  he  still  did  grind, 
And  grimly  gnash,  threatening  revenge  in  vain. 


Spenser. 


It  is  now  time  to  return  to  Lord  Vargrave.  His  most 
sanguine  hopes  were  realized;  all  things  seemed  to  pros- 
per. The  hand  of  Evelyn  Cameron  was  pledged  to  him ; 
the  wedding-day  was  fixed.  In  less  than  a  week  she 
was  to  confer  upon  the  ruined  peer  a  splendid  dowry, 
that  would  smooth  all  obstacles  in  the  ascent  of  his  am- 
bition. Erom  Mr.  Douce  he  learned  that  the  deeds 
which  were  to  transfer  to  himself  the  baronial  posses- 
sions of  the  head  of  the  house  of  Maltravers  were  nearly 
completed ;  and  on  his  wedding-day  he  hoped  to  be  able 
to  announce  that  the  happy  pair  had  set  out  for  their 
princely  mansion  of  Lisle  Court.  In  politics,  though 
nothing  could  be  finally  settled  till  his  return,  letters 
from  Lord  Saxingham  assured  him  that  all  Avas  auspi- 
cious,—  the  court  and  the  heads  of  the  aristocracy  daily 
growing  more  alienated  from  the  premier,  and  more  pre- 
pared for  a  Cabinet  revolution.  And  Vargrave,  per- 
haps, like  most  needy  men,  overrated  the  advantages  he 
should  derive  from,  and  the  servile  opinions  he  should 
conciliate  in,  his  new  character  of  landed  proprietor  and 
wealthy  peer.     He  was  not  insensible  to  the  silent  an- 


544  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTElilES. 

guish  that  Evelyn  seemed  to  endure,  nor  to  the  bitter 
gloom  that  hung  on  the  brow  of  Lady  Doltimore.  But 
these  were  clouds  that  foretold  no  storm,  —  light  shadows 
that  obscured  not  the  serenity  of  the  favoring  sky.  He 
continued  to  seem  unconscious  to  either,  —  to  take  the 
coming  event  as  a  matter  of  course ;  and  to  Evelyn  he 
evinced  so  gentle,  unfamiliar,  respectful,  and  delicate 
an  attachment  that  he  left  no  opening  either  for  confi- 
dence or  complaint.  Poor  Evelyn!  her  gayety,  her 
enchanting  levity,  her  sweet  and  infantine  playfulness 
of  manner,  were  indeed  vanished.  Pale,  wan,  passive, 
and  smileless,  she  was  the  ghost  of  her  former  self! 
But  days  rolled  on,  and  the  evil  one  drew  near;  she 
recoiled,  but  she  never  dreamed  of  resisting.  How 
many  equal  victims  of  her  age  and  sex  does  the  altar 
witness ! 

One  day,  at  early  noon,  Lord  Vargrave  took  his  way 
to  Evelyn's.  He  had  been  to  pay  a  political  visit  in  the 
Faubourg  St.  Germain;  and  he  was  now  slowly  crossing 
the  more  quiet  and  solitary  part  of  the  gardens  of  the 
Tuileries,  —  his  hands  clasped  behind  him  after  his  old, 
unaltered  habit,  and  his  eyes  downcast,  —  when  suddenly 
a  man,  who  was  seated  alone  beneath  one  of  the  trees, 
and  who  had  for  some  moments  watched  his  steps  with 
an  anxious  and  wild  aspect,  rose  and  approached  him. 
Lord  Vargrave  was  not  conscious  of  the  intrusion 
till  the  man  laid  his  hand  on  Vargrave's  arm,  and  ex- 
claimed, — 

"It  is  he!  it  is!     Lumley  Ferrers,  we  meet  again!" 

Lord  Vargrave  started  and  changed  color  as  he  gazed 
on  the  intrufler. 

"  Ferrers,"  continued  Cesarini  (for  it  was  he),  and  he 
wound  his  arm  firmly  into  Lord  Vargrave's  as  he  spoke, 
"  you  have  not  changed :  your  step  is  light,  your  cheek 


ALICE  ;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  545 

healthful ;  and  yet  I  —  you  can  scarcely  recognize  me. 
Oh,  I  have  suffered  so  horribly  since  we  parted!  Why 
is  this?  Why  have  I  been  so  heavily  visited;  and 
why  have  you  gone  free?     Heaven  is  not  just!  " 

Castruccio  was  in  one  of  his  lucid  intervals;  but 
there  was  that  in  his  uncertain  eye  and  strange,  unnat- 
ural voice  which  showed  that  a  breath  might  dissolve 
the  avalanche.  Lord  Vargrave  looked  anxiously  round. 
None  were  near;  but  he  knew  that  the  more  public  parts 
of  the  garden  were  thronged,  and  through  the  trees  he 
saw  many  forms  moving  in  the  distance.  He  felt  that 
the  sound  of  his  voice  could  summon  assistance  in  an 
instant,  and  his  assurance  returned  to  him. 

"  My  poor  friend,"  said  he,  soothingly,  as  he  quick- 
ened his  pace,  "  it  grieves  me  to  the  heart  to  see  you  look 
ill :  do  not  think  so  much  of  what  is  past. " 

"  There  is  no  past !"  replied  Cesarini ,  gloomily.  "  The 
past  is  my  present!  And  I  have  thought  and  thought, 
in  darkness  and  in  chains,  over  all  that  I  have  endured; 
and  a  light  has  broken  on  me  in  the  hours  when  they 
told  me  I  was  mad!  Lumley  Ferrers,  it  was  not  for  my 
sake  that  you  led  me,  devil  as  you  are,  into  the  lowest 
hell!  You  had  some  object  of  your  own  to  serve  in 
separating  her  from  Maltravers.  You  made  me  your 
instrument.  What  was  I  to  you  that  you  should  have 
sinned  for  my  sake?  Answer  me,  and  truly,  —  if  those 
lips  can  utter  truth!  " 

"Cesarini,"  returned  Vargrave,  in  his  blandest  ac- 
cents, "  another  time  we  will  converse  on  what  has  been ; 
believe  me,  my  only  object  was  your  happiness,  com- 
bined, it  may  be,  Avith  my  hatred  of  your  rival." 

"Liar!"  shouted  Cesarini,  grasping  Vargrave's  arm 
with  the  strength  of  growing  madness,  while  his  burning 
eyes  were  fixed  upon  his  tempter's  changing  countenance. 


546  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

"You,  too,  loved  Florence;  you,  too,  sought  her  hand, 
—  yoti  were  my  real  rival !  " 

"Hush!  my  friend,  hush!"  said  Vargrave,  seeking 
to  shake  off  the  gripe  of  the  maniac,  and  hecoming  seri- 
ously alarmed ;  "  we  are  approaching  the  crowded  part  of 
the  gardens;  we  shall  be  observed." 

"  And  why  are  men  made  my  foes  1  Why  is  my  OAvn 
sister  become  my  persecutor?  Why  should  she  give  me 
up  to  the  torturer  and  the  dungeon  1  Why  are  serpents 
and  fiends  my  comrades  ?  Why  is  there  fire  in  my  brain 
and  heart;  and  why  do  you  go  free,  and  enjoy  liberty 
and  life?  Observed!  what  care  you  for  oliservation ? 
All  men  search  for  me  !  " 

"  Then  why  so  openly  expose  yourself  to  their  notice  ? 
Why  —  " 

"  Hear  me !  "  interrupted  Cesarini.  "  When  I  escaped 
from  the  horrible  prison  into  Avhich  I  was  plunged; 
when  I  scented  the  fresh  air,  and  bounded  over  the  grass ; 
when  I  was  again  free  in  limbs  and  spirit,  —  a  sudden 
strain  of  music  from  a  village  came  on  my  ear,  and  I 
stopped  short,  and  couched  down,  and  held  my  breath 
tc  listen.  It  ceased;  and  I  thought  I  had  been  with 
Florence,  and  I  wept  bitterly!  When  I  recovered, 
memory  came  back  to  me  distinct  and  clear;  and  I 
heard  a  voice  say  to  me,  *  Avenge  her  and  thyself!  ' 
From  that  hour  the  voice  has  been  heard  again,  morning 
and  night!  Lumley  Ferrers,  I  hear  it  now!  It  speaks 
to  my  heart;  it  warms  my  blood;  it  nerves  my  hand! 
On  whom  should  vengeance  fall  ?     Speak  to  me !  " 

Lumley  strode  rapidly  on :  they  were  now  without  the 
grove;  a  gay  throng  was  before  them.  "All  is  safe," 
thought  the  Englishman.  He  turned  abruptly  and 
haughtily  on  Cesarini,  and  waved  his  hand.  "Begone, 
madman!  "  said  he,  in  a  loud  and  stern  voice,  —  "be- 


ALICE;   OK,   THE   MYSTERIES.  547 

gone!    Vex  me  no  more,  or  I  give  you  into  custody.     Be- 
gone, I  say !  " 

Cesarini  halted,  amazed  and  awed  for  the  moment, 
and  then,  with  a  dark  scowl  and  a  low  cry,  threw  him- 
self on  Vargrave.  The  eye  and  hand  of  the  latter  were 
vigilant  and  prepared;  he  grasped  the  lifted  arm  of  the 
maniac,  and  shouted  for  help.  But  the  madman  was 
now  in  his  full  fury ;  he  hurled  Vargrave  to  the  ground 
with  a  force  for  which  the  peer  was  not  prepared;  and 
Lumley  might  never  have  risen  a  living  man  from  that 
spot,  if  two  soldiers,  seated  close  by,  had  not  hastened 
to  his  assistance.  Cesarini  was  already  kneeling  on  his 
breast,  and  his  long  bony  fingers  were  fastening  upon 
the  throat  of  his  intended  victim.  Torn  from  his  hold, 
he  glared  fiercely  on  his  new  assailants,  and  after  a 
fierce  but  momentary  struggle,  wrested  himself  from 
their  gripe.  Then,  turning  round  to  Vargrave,  who 
had  with  some  effort  risen  from  the  ground,  he  shrieked 
out,  "  I  shall  have  thee  yet!  "  and  fled  through  the  trees 
and  disappeared. 


548  ALICE;   OK,   THE   MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Ah !  who  is  nigh  ?  —  Come  to  me,  friend  or  foe  ! 
My  parks,  my  walks,  my  manors  that  I  had  — 
Ev'n  now  forsake  me. 

Henry  VI.,  Part  IH 

Lord  Vargrave,  bold  as  he  was  by  nature,  in  vain 
endeavored  to  banish  from  his  mind  the  gloomy  impres- 
sion which  the  startling  interview  with  Cesarini  had 
bequeathed.  The  face,  the  voice,  of  the  maniac 
haunted  him,  as  the  shape  of  the  warning  wraith  haunts 
the  mountaineer.  He  returned  at  once  to  his  hotel, 
unable  for  some  hours  to  collect  himself  sufficiently  to 
pay  his  customary  visit  to  Miss  Cameron.  Inly  resolv- 
ing not  to  hazard  a  second  meeting  with  the  Italian 
during  the  rest  of  his  sojourn  in  Paris,  by  venturing  in 
the  streets  on  foot,  he  ordered  his  carriage  towards  even- 
ing, dined  at  the  CafS  de  Paris,  and  then  re-entered 
his  carriage  to  proceed  to  Lady  Doltimore's  house. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  my  lord,"  said  his  servant,  as 
he  closed  the  carriage-door;  "  but  I  forgot  to  say  that, 
a  short  time  after  you  returned  this  morning,  a  strange 
gentleman  asked  at  the  porter's  lodge  if  Mr.  Ferrers 
was  not  staying  at  the  hotel.  The  porter  said  there 
was  no  Mr.  Ferrers;  but  the  gentleman  insisted  upon 
it  that  he  had  seen  Mr.  Ferrers  enter.  I  was  in  the 
lodge  at  the  moment,  my  lord,  and  I  explained —  " 

"  That  ]\Ir.  Ferrers  and  Lord  Vargrave  are  one  and  the 
same  ?     What  sort  of  looking  person  ?  " 

"Thin  and  dark,  my  lord,  —  evidently  a  foreigner. 
When  I  said  that  you   were   now    Lord   Vargrave,  he 


ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  549 

stared  a  moment,  and  said  very  abruptly  that  he  recol- 
lected it  perfectly,  and  then  he  laughed  and  walked 
away. " 

"  Did  he  not  ask  to  see  me  ?  " 

"  No,  my  lord;  he  said  he  should  take  another  oppor- 
tunity. He  was  a  strange-looking  gentleman,  and  his 
clothes  were  threadbare.'" 

"Ah!  some  troublesome  petitioner.  Perhaps  a  Pole 
in  distress!  Remember  I  am  never  at  home  when  he 
calls.     Shut  the  door.     To  Lady  Doltimore's. " 

Lumley's  heart  beat  as  he  threw  himself  back;  he 
again  felt  the  gripe  of  the  madman  at  his  throat.  He 
saw  at  once  that  Cosarini  had  dogged  him;  he  resolved 
the  next  morning  to  change  his  hotel,  and  to  apply  to 
the  police.  It  was  strange  how  sudden  and  keen  a  fear 
had  entered  the  breast  of  this  callous  and  resolute  man! 

On  arriving  at  Lady  Doltimore's  he  found  Caroline 
alone  in  the  drawing-room.  It  was  a  tete-a-tete  that  he 
by  no  means  desired. 

"  Lord  Vargrave,"  said  Caroline,  coldly,  "I  wished  a 
short  conversation  with  you,  and  finding  you  did  not 
come  in  the  morning,  I  sent  you  a  note  an  hour  ago. 
Did  you  receive  it  ?  " 

"No;  I  have  been  from  home  since  six  o'clock,  —  it 
is  now  nine." 

"Well,  then,  Vargrave,"  said  Caroline,  with  a  com- 
pressed and  writhing  lip,  and  turning  very  pale,  "  I 
tremble  to  tell  you  that  I  fear  Doltimore  suspects.  He 
looked  at  me  sternly  this  morning,  and  said,  '  You 
seem  imhappy,  madam;  this  marriage  of  Lord  Vargrave's 
distresses  you !  '  " 

"  I  warned  you  how  it  would  be :  your  own  selfish- 
ness will  betray  and  ruin  you. " 

"Do  not  reproach  me,  man!"  said  Lady  Doltimore, 


550  ALICE;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES. 

with  great  vehem-ince.  "  "From  you  at  least  I  have  a 
right  to  pity,  to  forbearance,  to  succor.  I  will  not 
bear  reproach  from  you." 

"  I  reproach  you  for  your  own  sake,  —  for  the  faults 
you  commit  against  yourself;  and  I  must  say,  Caroline, 
that  after  I  had  generously  conquered  all  selfish  feeling, 
and  assisted  you  to  so  desirable  and  even  brilliant  a  posi- 
tion, it  is  neither  just  nor  high-minded  in  you  to  evince 
so  ungracious  a  reluctance  to  my  taking  the  only  step 
which  can  save  me  from  actual  ruin.  But  what  does 
Doltiraore  suspect?  What  ground  has  he  for  suspicion, 
beyond  that  want  of  command  of  countenance  which  it 
is  easy  to  explain,  and  which  it  is  yet  easier  for  a  woman 
and  a  great  lady  "  (here  Lumley  sneered)  "  to  acquire  ?  " 

"I  know  not;  it  has  been  put  into  his  head.  Paris 
is  so  full  of  slander.  But,  Vargrave,  Lumley,  I  tremble 
—  I  shudder  with  terror  —  if  ever  Doltimore  should 
discover  —  " 

"Pooh,  pooh!  Our  conduct  at  Paris  has  been  most 
guarded,  most  discreet.  Doltimore  is  self-conceit  per- 
sonified; and  self-conceit  is  horn-eyed.  I  am  about 
to  leave  Paris,  —  about  to  marry,  from  under  your  own 
roof:  a  little  prudence,  a  little  self-control,  a  smiling 
face,  when  you  wish  us  happiness,  and  so  forth,  and  all 
is  safe.  Tush !  Think  of  it  no  more.  Fate  has  cut  and 
shuffled  the  cards  for  you;  the  game  is  yours,  unless 
you  revoke.  Pardon  my  metaphor;  it  is  a  favorite 
one,  —  I  have  worn  it  threadbare;  but  human  life  is  so 
like  a  rubber  at  whist.     "Where  is  Evelyn  1  " 

"  In  her  own  room.     Have  you  no  pity  for  her  1 " 

"  She  will  be  very  happy  when  she  is  Lady  Vargrave; 
and  for  the  rest,  I  shall  neither  be  a  stern  nor  a  jealous 
husband.  She  might  not  have  given  the  same  character 
to  the  magnificent  Maltravers. " 


ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  551 

Here  Evelyn  entered ;  and  Vargrave  hastened  to  press 
her  hand,  to  wliisper  tender  salutations  and  compli- 
ments, to  draw  the  easy-chair  to  the  fire,  to  place  the 
footstool,  —  to  lavish  the  j^etits  soins  that  are  so  agree- 
able when  they  are  the  small  moralities  of  love. 

Evelyn  was  more  than  usually  pale,  more  than 
usually  abstracted.  There  was  no  lustre  in  her  eye, 
no  life  in  her  step :  she  seemed  unconscious  of  the  crisis 
to  which  she  approached.  As  the  myrrh  and  hyssop 
which  drugged  the  malefactors  of  old  into  forgetfulness 
of  their  doom,  so  there  are  griefs  which  stupefy  before 
their  last  and  crowning  consummation. 

Vargrave  conversed  lightly  on  the  weather,  the  news, 
the  last  book.  Evelyn  answered  but  in  monosyllables ; 
and  Caroline,  with  a  hand-screen  before  her  face,  pre- 
served an  unbroken  silence.  Thus,  gloomy  and  joyless 
were  two  of  the  party,  thus,  gay  and  animated  the  third, 
when  the  clock  on  the  mantel-piece  struck  ten ;  and  as 
the  last  stroke  died,  and  Evelyn  sighed  heavily,—  for  it 
was  an  hour  nearer  to  the  fatal  day,  —  the  door  was  sud- 
denly thrown  open,  and  pushing  aside  the  servant,  two 
gentlemen  entered  the  room. 

Caroline,  the  first  to  perceive  them,  started  from  her 
seat  with  a  faint  exclamation  of  surprise.  Vargrave 
turned  abruptly,  and  saw  before  him  the  stern  counte- 
nance of  Maltravers. 

"  My  child !  my  Evelyn !  "  exclaimed  a  familiar 
voice ;  and  Evelyn  had  already  flown  into  the  arms  of 
Aubrey. 

The  sight  of  the  curate  in  company  with  Maltravers 
explained  all  at  once  to  Vargrave.  He  saw  that  the 
mask  was  torn  from  his  face,  the  prize  snatched  from 
his  grasp,  his  falsehood  known,  his  plot  counterworked, 
his  villany  baffled!      He   struggled   in   vain   for   self- 


552  ALICE;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES. 

composure :  all  his  resources  of  courage  and  craft  seemed 
drained  and  exhausted.  Livid,  speechless,  almost  trem- 
bling, he  cowered  beneath  the  eyes  of  Maltravers. 

Evelyn,  not  as  yet  aware  of  the  presence  of  her  former 
lover,  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence.  She  lifted 
her  face  in  alarm  from  the  bosom  of  the  good  curate: 
"  My  mother,  — she  is  well,  she  lives;  what  brings  you 
hither  ?  " 

"  Your  mother  is  well,  my  child.  I  have  come  hither, 
at  her  earnest  request,  to  save  you  from  a  marriage  with 
that  unworthy  man!  " 

Lord  Yargrave  smiled  a  ghastly  smile,  but  made  no 
answer. 

"  Lord  Yargrave,"  said  Maltravers,  "you  will  feel  at 
once  that  you  have  no  further  business  under  this  roof. 
Let  us  withdraw;  I  have  much  to  thank  you  for." 

"I  will  not  stir!  "  exclaimed  Yargrave,  passionately, 
and  stamping  on  the  floor,  "  Miss  Cameron,  the  guest 
of  Lady  Doltimore,  whose  house  and  presence  you  thus 
rudely  profane,  is  my  affianced  bride,  —  affianced  with 
her  own  consent.  Evelyn,  beloved  Evelyn!  mine  you 
are  yet;  you  alone  can  cancel  the  bond.  Sir,  I  know 
not  what  you  have  to  say,  —  what  mystery  in  your  im- 
maculate life  to  disclose;  but  unless  Lady  Doltimore, 
whom  your  violence  appalls  and  terrifies,  orders  me  to 
quit  her  roof,  it  is  not  I ,  it  is  yourself,  who  are  the  in- 
truder! Lady  Doltimore,  with  your  permission,  I  will 
direct  your  servants  to  conduct  this  gentleman  to  his 
carriage." 

"Lady  Doltimore,  pardon  me,"  said  Maltravers, 
coldly;  "  I  will  not  be  urged  to  any  failure  of  respect 
to  you.  My  lord,  if  the  most  abject  cowardice  be  not 
added  to  your  other  vices,  you  will  not  make  this  room 
the  theatre  for  our  altercation.     I  invite  you,  in  those 


ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  553 

terms  which  no  gentleman  ever  yet  refused,  to  withdraw 
with  me. " 

The  tone  and  manner  of  jVfaltravers  exercised  a 
strange  control  over  Vargrave:  he  endeavored  in  vain 
to  keep  alive  the  passion  into  which  he  had  sought  to 
work  himself;  his  voice  faltered;  his  head  sank  upon  his 
breast.  Between  these  two  personages  none  interfered; 
around  them  all  present  grouped  in  breathless  silence,  — 
Caroline  turning  her  eyes  from  one  to  the  other,  in 
wonder  and  dismay;  Evelyn  believing  all  a  dream,  yet 
alive  only  to  the  thought  that,  by  some  merciful  inter- 
position of  Providence,  she  should  escape  the  conse- 
quences of  her  own  rashness,  clinging  to  Aubrey,  with 
her  gaze  riveted  on  Maltravers;  and  Aubrey,  whose 
gentle  character  was  borne  down  and  silenced  by  the 
powerful  and  tempestuous  passions  that  now  met  in 
collision  and  conflict,  withheld  by  his  abhorrence  of  Var- 
grave's  treachery  from  his  natural  desire  to  propitiate, 
and  yet  appalled  by  the  apprehension  of  bloodshed  that 
for  the  first  time  crossed  him. 

There  was  a  moment  of  dread  silence,  in  which  Var- 
grave seemed  to  be  nerving  and  collecting  himself  for 
such  course  as  might  be  best  to  pursue,  when  again  the 
door  opened,  and  the  name  of  Mr.  Howard  was  an- 
nounced. 

Hurried  and  agitated,  the  young  secretary,  scarcely 
noticing  the  rest  of  the  party,  rushed  to  Lord  Vargrave. 

"  My  lord !  —  a  thousand  pardons  for  interrupting  you ; 
business  of  such  importance!     I  am  so  fortunate  to  find 

you!" 

"  What  is  the  matter,  sir?  " 

"  These  letters,  my  lord;  I  have  so  much  to  say!  " 
Any  interruption,  even  an  earthquake,  at  that  moment 
must  have  been  welcome  to  Vargrave.     He  bent   his 


554  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTEIUES. 

head  Avith  a  polite  smile,  linked  his  arm  into  his  secre- 
tary's, and  withdrew  to  the  recess  of  the  farthest  win- 
dow. Not  a  minute  elapsed  before  he  turned  away  with 
a  look  of  scornful  exultation.  "  Mr.  Howard,"  said  he, 
"  go  and  refresh  yourself,  and  come  to  me  at  twelve 
o'clock  to-night;  I  shall  be  at  home  then."  The  secre- 
tary bowed  and  withdrew. 

"Now,  sir,"  said  Vargrave  to  Mai tra vers,  "I  am 
willing  to  leave  you  in  possession  of  the  field.  Miss 
Cameron,  it  will  be,  I  fear,  impossible  for  me  to  enter- 
tain any  longer  the  bright  hopes  I  had  once  formed ;  my 
cruel  fate  compels  me  to  seek  wealth  in  any  matrimonial 
engagement.  I  regret  to  inform  you  that  you  are  no 
longer  the  great  heiress:  the  whole  of  your  capital  was 
placed  in  the  hands  of  Mr.  Douce  for  the  completion  of 
the  purchase  of  Lisle  Court.  Mr.  Douce  is  a  bankrupt; 
he  has  fled  to  America.  This  letter  is  an  express  from 
my  lawyer ;  the  house  has  closed  its  payments.  Perhaps 
we  may  hope  to  obtain  sixpence  in  the  pound.  I  am  a 
loser  al.so ;  the  forfeit-money  bequeathed  to  me  is  gone. 
I  know  not  whether,  as  your  trustee,  I  am  not  account- 
able for  the  loss  of  your  fortune  (drawn  out  on  my  re- 
sponsibility) ;  probably  so.  But  as  I  have  not  now  a 
sliilling  in  the  world,  I  doubt  whetlier  Mr.  Maltravers 
will  advise  you  to  institute  proceedings  against  me. 
Mr.  Maltravers,  to-morrow,  at  nine  o'clock,  I  will 
listen  to  Avhat  you  have  to  say.  I  wish  you  all  good- 
night."     He  bowed,  seized  his  hat,  and  vanished. 

"Evelyn,"  said  Aubrey,  "can  you  require  to  learn 
more?  Do  you  not  already  feel  you  are  released  from 
union  with  a  man  Avithout  heart  and  honor  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes!  I  am  so  bappy!  "  cried  Evelyn,  bursting 
into  tears.  "  This  hated  wealth,  — I  feel  not  its  loss;  I 
am  released  from  all  duty  to  my  benefactor;  I  am  free!  " 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  555 

The  last  tie  that  had  yet  united  the  guilty  Caroline  to 
Vargrave  was  broken;  a  woman  forgives  sin  in  her 
lover,  but  never  meanness.  The  degrading,  the  abject 
position  in  which  she  had  seen  one  whom  she  had 
served  as  a  slave  (though,  as  yet,  all  his  worst  villanies 
were  unknown  to  her),  filled  her  with  shame,  horror, 
and  disgust.  She  rose  abruptly  and  quitted  the  room. 
They  did  not  miss  her. 

Maltravers  approached  Evelyn ;  he  took  her  hand,  and 
pressed  it  to  his  lips  and  heart. 

"  Evelyn,"  said  he,  mournfully,  "you  require  an  ex- 
planation; to-morrow  I  will  give  and  seek  it.  To-night 
we  are  both  too  unnerved  for  such  communications. 
I  can  only  now  feel  joy  at  your  escape,  and  hope  that  I 
may  still  minister  to  your  future  happiness." 

"But,"  said  Aubrey,  "can  we  believe  this  new  and 
astounding  statement  1  Can  this  loss  be  so  irremediable  ? 
May  we  not  yet  take  precaution,  and  save,  at  least, 
some  wrecks  of  this  noble  fortune  ?  " 

"I  thank  you  for  recalling  me  to  the  world,"  said 
Maltravers,  eagerly.  "I  will  see  to  it  this  instant; 
and  to-morrow,  Evelyn,  after  my  interview  with  you,  I 
will  hasten  to  London,  and  act  in  that  capacity  still  left 
to  me ,  —  your  guardian ,  your  friend. " 

He  turned  away  his  face,  and  hurried  to  the  door. 

Evelyn  clung  more  closely  to  Aubrey.  "  But  you 
will  not  leave  me  to-night  ?  You  can  stay ;  we  can  find 
you  accommodation ;  do  not  leave  me. " 

"Leave  you,  my  child!  No;  we  have  a  thousand 
things  to  say  to  each  other.  I  will  not,"  he  added  in  a 
whisper,  turning  to  Maltravers,  "  forestall  your  com- 
munications. " 


556  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Alack,  't  is  he.     AVhy,  he  was  met  even  now 
As  mad  as  the  vexed  sea. 

Lear. 

In  the  Rue  de  la  Paix  there  resided  an  English  lawyer 
of  eminence,  with  whom  Maltravers  had  had  previous 
dealings;  to  this  gentleman  he  now  drove.  He  ac- 
quainted him  with  the  news  he  had  just  heard  respect- 
ing the  bankruptcy  of  Mr.  Douce,  and  commissioned 
him  to  leave  Paris  the  first  moment  he  could  obtain 
a  passport,  and  to  proceed  to  London.  At  all  events,  he 
would  arrive  there  some  hours  before  Maltravers;  and 
those  hours  were  something  gained.  This  done,  he 
drove   to   the   nearest   hotel,  which   chanced  to  be  the 

Hotel  de  M ,  where,  though  he  knew  it  not,  it  so 

happened  that  Lord  Vargrave  himself  lodged.  As  his 
carriage  stopped  without,  while  the  porter  unclosed  the 
gates,  a  man,  who  had  been  loitering  under  the  lamps, 
darted  forward,  and  prying  into  the  carriage-window, 
regarded  Maltravers  earnestly.  The  latter,  preoccupied 
and  absorbed,  did  not  notice  him;  but  when  the  car- 
riage drove  into  the  courtyard,  it  was  followed  by  the 
stranger,  who  was  muffled  in  a  worn  and  tattered  cloak, 
and  whose  movements  were  unheeded  amidst  the  bustle 
of  the  arrival.  The  porter's  wife  led  the  way  to  a 
second  floor,  just  left  vacant,  and  the  waiter  began  to 
arrange  the  fire.  Maltravers  threw  himself  abstractedly 
upon  the  sofa,  insensible  to  all  around  him,  when, 
lifting  his  eyes,  he  saw  before  him  the  countenance  of 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  557 

Cesarlni.  The  Italian  (supposed,  perhaps,  by  the  per- 
sons of  the  hotel,  to  be  one  of  the  new-comers)  was  lean- 
ing over  the  back  of  a  chair,  supporting  his  face  with 
his  hand ,  and  fixing  his  eyes  with  an  earnest  and  sor- 
rowful expression  upon  the  features  of  his  ancient  rival. 
When  he  perceived  that  he  was  recognized,  he  ap- 
proached Maltravers,  and  said  in  Italian,  and  in  a  low 
voice,  "  You  are  the  man  of  all  others,  whom,  save  one, 
I  most  desired  to  see.  I  have  much  to  say  to  you,  and 
my  time  is  short.     Spare  me  a  few  minutes," 

The  tone  and  manner  of  Cesarini  were  so  calm  and 
rational  that  they  changed  the  first  impulse  of  Mal- 
travers, which  was  that  of  securing  a  maniac ;  while  the 
Italian's  emaciated  countenance,  his  squalid  garments, 
the  air  of  penury  and  want  diffused  over  his  whole  ap- 
pearance, irresistibly  invited  compassion.  With  all 
the  more  anxious  and  pressing  thoughts  that  weighed 
upon  him,  Maltravers  could  not  refuse  the  conference 
thus  demanded.  He  dismissed  the  attendants  and  mo- 
tioned Cesarini  to  be  seated. 

The  Italian  drew  near  to  the  fire,  which  now  blazed 
brightly  and  cheerily,  and  spreading  his  thin  hands  to 
the  flame,  seemed  to  enjoy  the  physical  luxury  of  the 
warmth.  "Cold,  cold,"  he  said  piteously,  as  to  him- 
self; "  Nature  is  a  very  bitter  protector.  But  frost  and 
famine  are,  at  least,  more  merciful  than  slavery  and 
darkness. " 

At  this  moment  Ernest's  servant  entered  to  know  if 
his  master  would  not  take  refreshments,  for  he  had 
scarcely  touched  food  upon  the  road.  And  as  he  spoke, 
Cesarini  turned  keenly  and  wistfully  round.  There  Avas 
no  mistaking  the  appeal.  Wine  and  cold  meat  were  or- 
dered; and  when  the  servant  vanished,  Cesarini  turned 
to  Maltravers  Avith  a  strange  smile,  and  said,  "  You  see 


558  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE  MYSTERIES. 

■what  the  love  of  liberty  brings  men  to!  They  found 
me  plenty  in  the  jail.  But  I  have  read  of  men  who 
feasted  merrily  before  execution,  — have  not  you  1  — and 
my  hour  is  at  hand.  All  this  day  I  have  felt  chained 
by  an  irresistible  destiny  to  this  house.  But  it  was  not 
you  I  sought;  no  matter,  in  the  crisis  of  our  doom  all 
its  agents  meet  together.  It  is  the  last  act  of  a  dreary 
play!" 

The  Italian  turned  again  to  the  fire,  and  bent  over  it, 
muttering  to  himself.  * 

Maltravers  remained  silent  and  thoughtful.  Xow  was 
the  moment  once  more  to  place  the  maniac  under  the 
kindly  vigilance  of  his  family,  —  to  snatch  him  from 
the  horrors,  perhaps,  of  starvation  itself,  to  which  his 
escape  had  condemned  him;  if  he  could  detain  Cesarini 
till  De  Montaigne  could  arrive! 

Agreeably  to  this  thought,  he  quietly  drew  towards 
him  the  portfolio  which  had  been  laid  on  the  table, 
and  Cesarini's  back  still  turned  to  him,  wrote  a  hasty 
line  to  De  ^Montaigne.  When  his  servant  re-entered 
with  the  wine  and  viands,  Maltravers  followed  him  out 
of  the  room,  and  bade  him  see  the  note  sent  immedi- 
ately. On  returning,  he  found  Cesarini  devouring  the 
food  before  him  with  all  the  voracity  of  famine.  It 
was  a  dreadful  sight!  —  the  intellect  ruined,  the  mind 
darkened,  the  wild,  fierce  animal  alone  left. 

When  Cesarini  had  appeased  his  hunger,  he  drew 
near  to  Maltravers,  and  thus  accosted  him: — ■ 

"  I  must  lead  you  back  to  the  past.  I  sinned  against 
you  and  the  dead;  but  Heaven  has  avenged  you,  and  me 
you  can  pity  and  forgive.  Maltravers,  there  is  another 
more  guilty  than  T,  but  proud,  prosperous,  and  great. 
His  crime  Heaven  has  left  to  the  revenge  of  man!  I 
bound  myself  by  an  oath  not  to  reveal  his  villany.     I 


ALICE  ;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  559 

cancel  the  oatli  now,  for  the  knowledge  of  it  should 
survive  his  life  and  mine.  And  mad  though  they 
deem  me,  the  mad  are  prophets;  and  a  solemn  convic- 
tion, a  voice  not  of  earth,  tells  me  that  he  and  I  are 
already  in  the  Shadow  of  Death." 

Here  Cesarini,  with  a  calm  and  precise  accuracy  of 
self-possession,  —  a  minuteness  of  circumstance  and  de- 
tail, that,  coming  from  one  whose  very  eyes  betrayed 
his  terrible  disease,  was  infinitely  thrilling  in  its  effect, 
—  related  the  counsels,  the  persuasions,  the  stratagems 
of  Lumley.  Slowly  and  distinctly  he  forced  into  the 
heart  of  JNlaltravers  that  sickening  record  of  cold  fraud, 
calculating  on  vehement  passion  as  its  tool ;  and  thus  he 
concluded  his  narration :  — 

"  Xow,  Avonder  no  longer  why  I  have  lived  till  this 
hour,  — why  I  have  clung  to  freedom,  through  want  and 
hunger,  amidst  beggars,  felons,  and  outcasts!  In  that 
freedom  was  my  last  hope,  —  the  hope  of  revenge  I" 

Maltravers  returned  no  answer  for  some  moments.  At 
length  he  said  calmly,  "  Cesarini,  there  are  injuries  so 
great  that  they  defy  revenge.  Let  us  alike,  since  we 
are  alike  injured,  trust  our  cause  to  Him  who  reads  all 
hearts,  and,  better  than  we  can  do,  measures  both  crime 
and  its  excuses.  You  think  that  our  enemy  has  not 
suffered,  —  that  he  has  gone  free.  We  know  not  his 
internal  history :  prosperity  and  power  are  no  signs  of 
happiness;  they  bring  no  exemption  from  care.  Be 
soothed  and  be  ruled,  Cesarini.  Let  the  stone  once 
more  close  over  the  solemn  grave.  Turn  with  me  to 
the  future;  and  let  us  rather  seek  to  be  the  judges  of 
ourselves  than  the  executioners  of  another." 

Cesarini  listened  gloomily,  and  was  about  to  answer, 
when  — 

But  here  we  must  return  to  Lord  Varcrrave. 


560  ALICE;   OK.   THE   MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

My  noble  lord, 
Your  worthy  friends  do  lack  you. 

Macbeth. 
He  is  about  it : 
The  doors  are  open. 

Ibid. 

On  quitting  Lady  Doltimore's  house,  Lumley  drove  to 
his  hotel.  His  secretary  had  been  the  bearer  of  other 
communications,  with  the  nature  of  which  he  had  not 
yet  acquainted  himself;  but  he  saw  by  the  superscrip- 
tions that  they  were  of  great  importance.  Still,  how- 
ever, even  in  the  solitude  and  privacy  of  his  own 
chamber,  it  was  not  on  the  instant  that  he  could  divert 
his  thoughts  from  the  ruin  of  his  fortunes,  —  the  loss  not 
only  of  Evelyn's  property,  but  his  own  claims  upon  it 
(for  the  whole  capital  had  been  placed  in  Douce 's 
hands) ;  the  total  wreck  of  his  grand  scheme ;  the  tri- 
umph he  had  afforded  to  Maltravers.  He  ground  his 
teeth  in  impotent  rage,  and  groaned  aloud,  as  he  trav- 
ersed his  room  with  hasty  and  uneven  strides.  At  last 
he  paused  and  muttered,  "  Well,  the  spider  toils  on 
even  when  its  very  power  of  weaving  fresh  webs  is 
exhau.sted;  it  lies  in  wait;  it  forces  itself  into  the 
webs  of  others.  Brave  insect,  thou  art  my  model! 
"While  I  have  breath  in  my  body,  the  world  and  all  its 
cresses,  Fortune  and  all  her  malignity,  shall  not  pre- 
vail against  me!  What  man  ever  yet  failed  until  he 
himself  grew  craven,  and  sold  his  soul  to  the  arch-fiend, 
Despair!       'T  is   but  a  girl   and  a   fortune  lost;   they 


ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  561 

were  gallantly  fought  for,  that  is  some  comfort.  Now 
to  what  is  yet  left  to  me !  " 

The  first  letter  Lumley  opened  was  from  Lord  Sax- 
ingham.  It  filled  him  with  dismay.  The  question  at 
issue  had  been  formally  but  abruptly  decided  in  the 
Cabinet  against  Vargrave  and  his  manoeuvres.  Some 
hasty  expressions  of  Lord  Saxingham  had  been  in- 
stantly caught  at  by  the  premier;  and  a  resignation, 
rather  hinted  at  than  declared,  had  been  peremptorily 
accepted.  Lord  Saxingham  and  Lumley's  adherents  in 
the  government  were  to  a  man  dismissed;  and  at  the 
time  Lord  Saxingham  wrote,  the  premier  was  with  the 
king. 

"Curse  their  folly!  —  the  puppets!  the  dolts!" 
exclaimed  Lumley,  crushing  the  letter  in  his  hand. 
**  The  moment  I  leave  them  they  run  their  heads 
against  the  wall.  Curse  them,  curse  myself,  curse  the 
man  who  weaves  ropes  with  sand!  Nothing,  nothing 
left  for  me  but  exile  or  suicide!     Stay,  what  is  this?  " 

—  His  eye  fell  on  the  well-known  handwriting  of  the 
premier.  He  tore  the  envelope,  impatient  to  know  the 
worst.  His  eyes  sparkled  as  he  proceeded.  The  letter 
was  most  courteous,  most  complimentary,  most  wooing. 
The  minister  was  a  man  consummately  versed  in  the 
arts  that  increase,  as  well  as  those  which  purge,  a  party. 
Saxingham  and  his  friends  were  imbeciles,  incapables, 

—  mostly  men  who  had  outlived  their  day.  But  Lord 
Vargrave,  in  the  prime  of  life,  versatile,  accomplished, 
vigorous,  bitter,  unscrupulous, — Vargrave  was  of  an- 
other mould;  Vargrave  was  to  be  dreaded,  and  there- 
fore, if  possible,  to  be  retained.  His  powers  of  mischief 
were  unquestionably  increased  by  the  vmiversal  talk  of 
London,  that  he  was  about  soon  to  wed  so  wealthy  a 
lady.     The  minister  knew  his  man.     In  terms  of  affected 

36 


562  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

regret,  he  alluded  to  the  loss  the  government  would 
sustain  in  the  services  of  Lord  Saxingham,  etc. ;  he 
rejoiced  that  Lord  Vargrave's  absence  from  London  had 
prevented  his  being  prematurely  mixed  up,  by  false 
scruples  of  honor,  in  secessions  which  his  judgment 
must  condemn.  He  treated  of  the  question  in  dispute 
with  the  most  delicate  address,  —  confessed  the  reason- 
ableness of  Lord  Vargrave's  former  opposition  to  it,  but 
contended  that  it  was  now,  if  not  wise,  inevitable.  He 
said  nothing  of  the  justice  of  the  measure  he  proposed 
to  adopt,  but  much  on  the  expediency.  He  concluded 
by  offering  to  Vargrave,  in  the  most  cordial  and  flatter- 
ing terms,  the  very  seat  in  the  Cabinet  which  Lord  Sax- 
ingham had  vacated,  with  an  apology  for  its  inadequacy 
to  his  lordship's  merits,  and  a  distinct  and  definite 
promise  of  the  refusal  of  the  gorgeous  viceroyalty  of 
India,  which  would  be  vacant  next  year  by  the  return 
of  the  present  governor-general. 

Unprincipled  as  Vargrave  was,  it  is  not,  perhaps, 
judging  him  too  mildly  to  say  that,  had  he  succeeded 
in  obtaining  Evelyn's  hand  and  fortune,  he  would  have 
shrunk  from  the  baseness  he  now  meditated.  To  step 
coldly  into  the  very  post  of  which  he,  and  he  alone,  had 
been  the  cause  of  depriving  his  earliest  patron  and 
nearest  relative;  to  profit  by  the  betrayal  of  his  own 
party;  to  damn  himself  eternally  in  the  eyes  of  his 
ancient  friends;  to  pass  down  the  stream  of  history  as 
a  mercenary  apostate, — from  all  this  Vargrave  must 
have  shrunk,  had  he  seen  one  spot  of  honest  ground  on 
which  to  maintain  his  footing.  But  now  the  waters 
of  the  abyss  were  closing  over  his  head:  he  would  have 
caught  at  a  straw ;  how  much  more  consent  to  be  picked 
up  by  the  vessel  of  an  enemy!  All  objection,  all  scru- 
ple, vanished  at  once.     And  the  "  barbaric  gold  "  "  of 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  563 

Ormus  and  of  Ind  "  glittered  before  the  greedy  eyes  of 
the  penniless  adventurer!  Not  a  day  was  now  to  be 
lost:  how  fortunate  that  a  written  proposition,  from 
which  it  was  impossible  to  recede,  had  been  made  to 
him  before  the  failure  of  his  matrimonial  projects  had 
become  known!  Too  happy  to  quit  Paris,  he  would  set 
off  on  the  morrow,  and  conclude  in  person  the  negotia- 
tion. Vargrave  glanced  towards  the  clock,  —  it  was 
scarcely  past  eleven;  what  revolutions  are  worked  in 
moments!  Within  an  hour  he  had  lost  a  wife,  a  noble 
fortune ;  changed  the  politics  of  his  whole  life ;  stepped 
into  a  Cabinet  office ,  —  and  was  already  calculating  how 
much  a  governor-general  of  India  could  lay  by  in  five 
years.  But  it  was  only  eleven  o'clock:  he  had  put  off 
Mr.  Howard's  visit  till  twelve ;  he  wished  so  much  to 
see  him,  and  learn  all  the  London  gossip  connected  with 
the  recent  events.  Poor  Mr.  Douce!  Vargrave  had 
already  forgotten  Iiis  existence!  He  rang  his  bell  has- 
tily.    It  was  some  time  before  his  servant  answered. 

Promptitude  and  readiness  were  virtues  that  Lord 
Vargrave  peremptorily  demanded  in  a  servant;  and  as 
he  paid  the  best  price  for  the  articles,  —  less  in  wages 
than  in  plunder,  — he  was  generally  sure  to  obtain 
them. 

"  Where  the  deuce  have  you  been  1     This  is  the  third 

time  I  have  rung!     You  ought  to  be  in  the  anteroom!  " 

"  I  beg  your  lordship's   pardon ;    but  I   was   helping 

Mr.  Maltravers's  valet  to  find  a  key  which  he  dropped 

in  the  courtyard." 

"  Mr.  Maltravers!     Is  he  at  this  hotel  1  " 
"Yes,  my  lord;  his  rooms  are  just  overhead." 
"  Humph !    Has  Mr.  Howard  engaged  a  lodging  here  ?  " 
"  No,  my  lord.      He  left  word  that  he  was  gone  to 
l.is  aunt,  Lady  Jane." 


5G4  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

"Ah!  Lady  Jane  lives  at  Paris:  so  she  does, — 
Rue  Chaussee  d' Antin.  You  know  the  house  1  Go 
immediately,  go  yourself! — don't  trust  to  a  messenger, 
—  and  heg  Mr.  Howard  to  return  with  you.  I  want  to 
see  him  instantly." 

"Yes,  my  lord." 

The  servant  went.  Lumley  was  in  a  mood  in  which 
solitude  was  intolerahle.  He  was  greatly  excited;  and 
some  natural  compunctions  at  the  course  on  which  he 
had  decided  made  him  long  to  escape  from  thought. 
So  Mai tra vers  was  under  the  same  roof!  He  had  prom- 
ised to  give  him  an  interview  next  day;  but  next  day 
he  wished  to  be  on  the  road  to  London.  Why  not  have 
it  over  to-night?  But  could  Maltravers  meditate  any 
hostile  proceedings?  Impossible!  Whatever  his  causes 
of  complaint,  they  were  of  too  delicate  and  secret  a  na- 
ture for  seconds,  bullets,  and  newspaper  paragraphs. 
Vargrave  might  feel  secure  that  he  should  not  be  de- 
layed by  any  Bois  de  Boulogne  assignation;  but  it  was 
necessary  to  his  honor (l)  that  he  should  not  seem  to 
shun  the  man  he  had  deceived  and  wronged.  He  would 
go  up  to  him  at  once,  — -a  new  excitement  would  distract 
his  thoughts.  Agreeably  to  tliis  resolution,  Lord  Var- 
grave quitted  his  room,  and  was  about  to  close  the  outer 
door,  when  he  recollected  that  perhaps  his  servant  might 
not  meet  with  Howard,  that  the  secretary  might  prob- 
ably arrive  before  the  time  fixed;  it  would  be  as  well 
to  leave  his  door  open.  He  accordingly  stopped,  and 
writing  upon  a  piece  of  paper,  "  Dear  Howard,  send  up 
for  me  the  moment  you  arrive:  I  shall  be  with  Mr.  Mal- 
travers au  second"  Vargrave  wafered  the  affiche  to 
the  door,  which  he  then  left  ajar,  and  the  lamp  in  the 
landing-place  fell  clear  and  full  on  the  paper. 

It  was  the  voice  of  Vargrave,  in  the  little  stone-paven 


ALICE;   OR,    THE   MYSTERIES.  565 

antechamber  without,  inquiring  of  the  servant  if  Mr. 
Maltravers  was  at  home,  which  had  startled  and  inter- 
rupted Cesarini  as  he  was  about  to  reply  to  Ernest. 
Each  recognized  that  sharp,  clear  voice;  each  glanced 
at  the  other. 

"  I  will  not  see  him,"  said  Maltravers,  hastily  moving 
towards  the  door ;  "  you  are  not  fit  to  —  " 

"  Meet  him?  No!  "  said  Cesarini,  with  a  furtive  and 
sinister  glance,  which  a  man  versed  in  his  disease  would 
have  understood,  but  which  Maltravers  did  not  even 
observe.  "  I  will  retire  into  your  bedroom;  my  eyes  are 
heavy,  —  I  could  sleep. " 

He  opened  the  inner  door  as  he  spoke,  and  had 
scarcely  re-closed  it  before  Vargrave  entered. 

"  Your  servant  said  you  were  engaged ;  but  I  thought 
you  might  see  an  old  friend ; "  and  Vargrave  coolly 
seated  himself. 

Maltravers  drew  the  bolt  across  the  door  that  separated 
them  from  Cesarini ;  and  the  two  men,  whose  characters 
and  lives  were  so  strongly  contrasted,  were  now  alone. 

"You  wished  an  interview,  —  an  explanation,"  said 
Lumley ;  "  I  shrink  from  neither.  Let  me  forestall  in- 
quiry and  complaint.  I  deceived  you  knowingly  and 
deliberately,  it  is  quite  true,  —  all  stratagems  are  fair 
in  love  and  war.  The  prize  was  vast!  I  believed  my 
career  depended  on  it;  I  could  not  resist  the  tempta- 
tion. I  knew  that  before  long  you  would  learn  that 
Evelyn  was  not  your  daughter;  that  the  first  communi- 
cation between  yourself  and  Lady  Vargrave  would  be- 
tray me;  but  it  was  worth  trying  a  coup  de  main. 
You  have  foiled  me,  and  conquered:  be  it  so;  I  con- 
gratulate you.  You  are  tolerably  rich,  and  the  loss  of 
Evelyn's  fortune  will  not  vex  you  as  it  would  have 
done  me." 


566  ALICE;   OR,   Tllli   MYSTERIES. 

"*  Lord  Vargrave,  it  is  but  poor  affectation  to  treat 
thus  lightly  the  dark  falsehood  you  conceived,  the  awful 
curse  you  inflicted  upon  me!  Your  sight  is  now  so 
painful  to  me  —  it  so  stirs  the  passions  that  I  would 
seek  to  suppress  —  that  the  sooner  our  interview  is  ter- 
minated the  better.  I  have  to  charge  you  also  with 
a  crime, — not,  perhaps,  baser  than  the  one  you  so 
calmly  own,  but  the  consequences  of  which  were  more 
fatal :  you  understand  me  ?  " 

"I  do  not." 

"Do  not  tempt  me!  do  not  lie!"  said  Maltravers, 
still  in  a  calm  voice,  though  his  passions,  naturally  so 
strong,  shook  his  whole  frame.  "  To  your  arts  I  owe 
the  exile  of  years  that  should  have  been  better  spent; 
to  those  arts  Cesarini  owes  the  wreck  of  his  reason,  and 
Florence  Lascelles  her  early  grave!  Ah,  you  are  pale 
now;  your  tongue  cleaves  to  your  mouth!  And  think 
you  these  crimes  will  go  forever  unrequited;  think  you 
that  there  is  no  justice  in  the  thunderbolts  of  God?  " 

"  Sir,"  said  Vargrave,  starting  to  his  feet,  "  I  know 
not  what  you  suspect;  I  care  not  what  you  believe!  But 
I  am  accountable  to  man,  and  that  account  I  am  willing 
to  render.  You  threatened  me  in  the  presence  of  my 
ward;  you  spoke  of  cowardice,  and  hinted  at  danger. 
Whatever  my  faults,  want  of  courage  is  not  one.  Stand 
by  your  threats,  I  am  ready  to  brave  them!  " 

"A  year,  perhaps  a  short  month,  ago,"  replied  Mal- 
travers, "  and  I  would  have  arrogated  justice  to  my  own 
mortal  liand;  nay,  this  very  night,  had  the  hazard  of 
either  of  our  lives  been  necessary  to  save  Evelyn  from 
your  persecution,  I  would  have  incurred  all  things  for 
her  sake!  T»ut  that  is  past;  from  me  you  have  nothing 
to  fear.  The  proofs  of  your  earlier  guilt,  with  its 
dreadful  results,  would  alone  suffice  to  warn  me  from 


ALICE;   OK,    THE    MYSTERIES.  567 

the  solemn  responsibility  of  hnraan  vengeance!  Great 
Heaven!  what  hand  could  dare  to  send  a  criminal  so 
long  hardened,  so  black  with  crime,  unatoning,  unre- 
pentant, and  unprepared,  before  the  judgment-seat  of 
the  All  Just?  Go,  unhappy  man!  may  life  long  be 
spared  to  you!  Awake,  awake  from  this  world,  before 
your  feet  pass  the  irrevocable  boundary  of  the  next!  " 

"  I  came  not  here  to  listen  to  homilies  and  the  cant 
of  the  conventicle,"  said  Vargrave,  vainly  struggling  for 
a  haughtiness  of  mien  that  his  conscience-stricken  aspect 
terribly  belied,  —  "  not  I;  but  this  wrong  world  is  to  be 
blamed,  if  deeds  that  strict  morality  may  not  justify, 
but  the  effects  of  which  I ,  no  prophet,  could  not  fore- 
see, were  necessary  for  success  in  life.  I  have  been  but 
as  all  other  men  have  been  who  struggle  against  fortune, 
to  be  rich  and  great:  ambition  must  make  use  of  foul 
ladders." 

"Oh,"  said  Maltravers,  earnestly,  touched  involun- 
tarily, and  in  spite  of  his  abhorrence  of  the  criminal, 
by  the  relenting  that  this  miserable  attempt  at  self- 
justification  seemed  to  denote, — "oh,  be  warned  while 
it  is  yet  time ;  wrap  not  yourself  in  these  paltry  sophis- 
tries ;  look  back  to  your  past  career ;  see  to  what  heights 
you  might  have  climbed,  if,  with  those  rare  gifts  and 
energies,  with  that  subtle  sagacity  and  indomitable  cour- 
age, your  ambition  had  but  chosen  the  straight,  not  the 
crooked,  path!  Pause!  many  years  may  yet,  in  the 
course  of  nature,  afford  you  time  to  retrace  your  steps, 
to  atone  to  thousands  the  injuries  you  have  inflicted  on 
the  few.  I  know  not  why  I  thus  address  you;  but 
something  diviner  than  indignation  urges  me :  something 
tells  me  that  you  are  already  on  the  brink  of  the  abyss!  " 

Lord  Vargrave  changed  color,  nor  did  he  speak  for 
some   moments;    then   raising   his   head,  with  a  faint 


568  ALICE;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES. 

smile,  lie  said,  " Mai tra vers,  you  are  a  false  soothsayer. 
At  this  moment  my  paths,  crooked  though  they  be,  have 
led  me  far  toward  the  summit  of  my  proudest  hopes; 
the  straight  path  would  have  left  me  at  the  foot  of  the 
mountain !  You  yourself  are  a  beacon  against  the  course 
you  advise.  Let  us  contrast  each  other.  You  took  the 
straight  path;  I  the  crooked.  You,  my  superior  in  for- 
tune; you,  infinitely  above  me  in  genius;  you,  born  to 
command  and  never  to  crouch ,  —  how  do  we  stand  now, 
each  in  the  prime  of  life?  You,  with  a  barren  and 
profitless  reputation ,  without  rank ,  without  power,  — 
almost  without  the  hope  of  power.  I  —  but  you  know 
not  my  new  dignity  —  I,  in  the  Cabinet  of  England's 
ministry,  vast  fortunes  opening  to  my  gaze, —  the  proud- 
est station  not  too  high  for  my  reasonable  ambition! 
You,  wedding  yourself  to  some  grand  chimera  of  an 
object,  aimless,  when  it  eludes  your  grasp.  I,  swing- 
ing, squirrel-like,  from  scheme  to  scheme;  no  matter  if 
one  breaks,  another  is  at  hand !  Some  men  would  have 
cut  their  throats  in  despair,  an  hour  ago,  in  losing  the 
object  of  a  seven  years'  chase, — beauty  and  wealth, 
both!  I  open  a  letter  and  find  success  in  one  quarter 
to  counterbalance  failure  in  another.  Bah!  bah!  each 
to  his  metier,  Maltravers !  For  you,  honor,  melan- 
choly, and,  if  it  please  you,  repentance  also!  For 
me,  the  onward,  rushing  life,  never  looking  back  to  the 
past,  never  balancing  tlie  stepping-stones  to  the  future. 
Let  us  not  envy  each  other:  if  you  were  not  Diogenes, 
you  would  be  Alexander.  Adieu!  our  interview  is 
over.  Will  you  forget  and  forgive,  and  shake  hands 
once  more?  You  draw  back,  — you  frown!  Well,  per- 
haps you  are  right.     If  we  meet  again  —  " 

"  It  will  be  as  strangers. " 

"  No  rash  vows !  you  may  return  to  politics ;  you  may 


ALICE;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES.  569 

want  office.  I  am  of  your  way  of  thinking  now;  and — • 
ha,  ha!  —  poor  Lumley  Ferrers  could  make  you  a  Lord 
of  the  Treasury, —  smooth  travelling,  and  cheap  turnpikes 
on  crooked  paths,  believe  me.     Farewell!  " 

On  entering  the  room  into  which  Cesarini  had  retired, 
Maltravers  found  him  flown.  His  servant  said  that  the 
gentleman  had  gone  away  shortly  after  Lord  Vargrave's 
arrival.  Ernest  reproached  himself  bitterly  for  neglect- 
ing to  secure  the  door  that  conducted  to  the  antechamber ; 
but  still  it  was  probable  that  Cesarini  would  return  in 
the  morning. 

The  messenger  who  had  taken  the  letter  to  De  Mon- 
taigne brought  back  word  that  the  latter  was  at  his  villa , 
but  expected  at  Paris  early  the  next  day.  Maltravers 
hoped  to  see  him  before  his  departure ;  meanwhile  lie 
threw  himself  on  his  bed,  and  despite  all  the  anxieties 
that  yet  oppressed  him,  the  fatigues  and  excitements  he 
had  undergone  exhausted  even  the  endurance  of  that 
iron  frame,  and  he  fell  into  a  profound  slumber. 


570  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER  V. 

By  eight  to-morrow 
Thou  shalt  be  made  immortal. 

Measure  for  Measure, 

Lord  Vargrave  returned  to  his  apartment  to  find  TNIr. 
Howard,  who  had  but  just  that  instant  arrived,  warming 
his  white  and  well-ringed  hands  by  the  fire.  He  con- 
versed with  him  for  half  an  hour  on  all  the  topics  on 
which  the  secretary  could  give  him  information,  and  then 
dismissed  him  once  more  to  the  roof  of  Lady  Jane. 

As  he  slowly  undressed  himself,  he  saw  on  his  writing- 
table  the  note  which  Lady  Doltimore  had  referred  to, 
and  which  he  had  not  yet  opened.  He  lazily  broke 
the  seal,  ran  his  eye  carelessly  over  its  few  blotted  words 
of  remorse  and  alarm,  and  threw  it  down  again  with  a 
contemptuous  "  pshaw !  "  Thus  unequally  are  the  sor- 
rows of  a  guilty  tie  felt  by  the  man  of  the  world  and 
the  woman  of  society ! 

As  his  servant  placed  before  him  his  wine-and-water, 
Vargrave  told  him  to  see  early  to  the  preparations  for 
departure,  and  to  call  him  at  nine  o'clock. 

"Shall  I  shut  that  door,  my  lord?"  said  the  valet, 
pointing  to  one  that  communicated  with  one  of  those 
large  closets,  or  armoires,  that  are  common  appendages 
to  French  bedrooms,  and  in  which  wood  and  sundry 
other  matters  are  kept. 

"  No,"  said  Lord  Vargrave,  petulantly;  "  you  servants 
are  so  fond  of  excluding  every  breath  of  air.  I  should 
never  have  a  window  open  if  I  did  not  open  it  myself. 


ALICE  ;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  571 

Leave  the  door  as  it  is,  and  do  not  be  later  than  nine 
to-morrow." 

The  servant,  who  slept  in  a  kind  of  kennel  that  com- 
municated with  the  anteroom,  did  as  he  was  bid;  and 
Vargrave  put  out  his  candle,  betook  himself  to  bed,  and 
after  drowsily  gazing  some  minutes  on  the  dying  embers 
of  the  fire,  which  threw  a  dim,  ghastly  light  over  the 
chamber,  fell  fast  asleep.  The  clock  struck  the  first 
hour  of  morning,  and  in  that  house  all  seemed  still. 

The  next  morning  Maltravers  was  disturbed  from  his 
slumber  by  De  Montaigne,  who,  arriving,  as  was  often 
his  wont,  at  an  early  hour  from  his  villa,  had  found 
Ernest's  note  of  the  previous  evening. 

Maltravers  rose  and  dressed  himself;  and  while  De 
Montaigne  was  yet  listening  to  the  account  which  his 
friend  gave  of  his  adventure  with  Cesarini,  and  the 
unhappy  man's  accusation  of  his  accomplice,  Ernest's 
servant  entered  the  room  very  abruptly. 

"  Sir,"  said  he,  "  I  thought  you  mi  ;ht  like  to  know  — • 
what  is  to  be  done  ?  —  the  whole  hotel   is  in   confusion 

—  Mr.  Howard  has  been  sent  for  —  and  Lord  Doltimore 

—  so  very  strange,  so  sudden !  " 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?      Speak  plain. " 

"  Lord  Vargrave,  sir  —  poor  Lord  Vargrave  —  " 

"  Lord  Vargrave !  " 

"  Yes,  sir;  the  master  of  the  hotel,  hearing  you  knew 
his  lordship,  would  be  so  glad  if  you  would  come  down. 
Lord  Vargrave,  sir,  is  dead,  —  found  dead  in  his 
bed !  " 

^laltravers  was  rooted  to  the  spot  with  amaze  and 
horror.  Dead!  and  but  last  night  so  full  of  life  and 
schemes  and  hope  and  ambition ! 

As  soon  as  he  recovered  himself,  he  hurried  to  the  spot, 
and  De  Montaigne    followed.     The  latter,  as  they  de- 


572  ALICE;   OR,    THE   MYSTERIES. 

scended  the  stairs,  laid  his  hand  on  Ernest's  arm  and 
detained  him. 

"  Did  you  say  that  Castruccio  left  the  apartment  while 
Vargrave  was  with  you,  and  almost  immediately  after 
his  narrative  of  Vargrave's  instigation  to  his  crime?  " 

"Yes." 

The  eyes  of  the  friends  met;  a  terrible  suspicion  pos- 
sessed both. 

"  Xo ;  it  is  impossible !  "  exclaimed  Maltravers. 
"  How  could  he  obtain  entrance,  —  how  pass  Lord  Var- 
grave's servants'?     Xo,  no;  think  of  it  not." 

They  hurried  down  the  stairs ;  they  reached  the  outer 
door  of  Vargrave's  apartment.  The  notice  to  Howard, 
with  the  name  of  Vargrave  underscored,  was  still  on  the 
panels;  De  Montaigne  saw  and  shuddered. 

They  were  in  the  room  by  the  bedside;  a  group  were 
collected  round,  —  they  gave  way  as  the  Englishman  and 
his  friend  approached ;  and  the  eyes  of  Maltravors  sud- 
denly rested  on  the  face  of  Lord  Vargrave,  which  was 
locked,  rigid,  and  convulsed. 

There  was  a  buzz  of  voices  which  had  ceased  at  the 
entrance  of  Maltravers;  it  was  now  renewed.  A  sur- 
geon had  been  summoned,  — the  nearest  surgeon,  a  young 
Englishman,  of  no  great  repute  or  name.  He  was 
making  inquiries  as  he  bent  over  the  corpse. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Lord  Vargrave's  servant;  "his  lord- 
ship told  me  to  call  him  at  nine  o'clock.  I  came  in  at 
that  hour,  but  his  lordship  did  not  move  nor  answer  me. 
I  then  looked  to  see  if  he  were  very  sound  asleep,  and 
I  saw  that  the  pillows  had  got  somehow  over  his  face, 
and  his  head  seemed  to  lie  very  low;  so  I  moved  the 
pillows,  and  I  .saw  that  his  lordship  was  dead." 

"  Sir,"  said  the  surgeon,  turning  to  Maltravers,  "  you 
were  a  friend  of  his  lordship's,  I  hear.     I  have  already 


ALICE  ;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  573 

sent  for  Mr.  Howard  and  Lord  Doltimore.  Shall  I 
speak  with  you  a  minute  ?  " 

Maltravers  nodded  assent.  The  surgeon  cleared  the 
room  of  all  but  himself,  De  Montaigne,  and  Maltravers. 

"  Has  that  servant  lived  long  with  Lord  Vargrave  1 " 
asked  the  surgeon. 

"  I  believe  so,  — yes.     I  recollect  his  face;  why?  " 

"  And  you  think  him  safe  and  honest  1  " 

"  I  don't  know;  I  know  nothing  of  him." 

"  Look  here ,  sir ; "  and  the  surgeon  pointed  to  a 
slight  discoloration  on  one  side  the  throat  of  the  dead 
man.  "  This  may  be  accidental ,  —  purely  natural ;  his 
lordship  may  have  died  in  a  fit,  —  there  are  no  certain 
marks  of  outward  violence;  but  murder  by  suffocation 
might  still  —  " 

"  But  who  beside  the  servant  could  gain  admission  1 
Was  the  outer  door  closed  ?  " 

"  The  servant  can  take  oath  that  he  shut  the  door  be- 
fore going  to  bed,  and  that  no  one  was  with  his  lordship, 
or  in  the  rooms,  when  Lord  Vargrave  retired  to  rest. 
Entrance  from  the  windows  is  impossible.  Mind,  sir, 
I  do  not  think  I  have  any  right  to  suspect  any  one. 
His  lordship  had  been  in  very  ill  health  a  short  time 
before ;  had  had,  I  hear,  a  rush  of  blood  to  the  head. 
Certainly,  if  the  servant  be  innocent,  we  can  suspect  no 
one  else.  You  had  better  send  for  more  experienced 
practitioners." 

De  Montaigne,  who  had  hitherto  said  nothing,  now 
looked  with  a  hurried  glance  around  the  room;  he  per- 
ceived the  closet-door,  which  was  ajar,  and  rushed  to  it, 
as  by  an  involuntary  impulse.  The  closet  was  large, 
but  a  considerable  pile  of  wood,  and  some  lumber  of  odd 
chairs  and  tables,  took  up  a  great  part  of  the  space.  De 
Montaigne  searched  behind  and  amidst  this  litter  with 


574  ALICE  ;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES. 

trembling  haste;  no  trace  of  secreted  murder  was  visi- 
ble. He  returned  to  the  bedroom  with  a  satisfied  and 
relieved  expression  of  countenance.  He  then  compelled 
himself  to  approach  the  body,  from  which  he  had  hith- 
erto recoiled. 

"  Sir,"  said  he,  almost  harshly,  as  he  turned  to  the 
surgeon,  "what  idle  doubts  are  these?  Cannot  men 
die  in  their  beds,  —  of  sudden  death,  no  blood  to  stain 
their  pillows,  no  loophole  for  crime  to  pass  through,  —  but 
we  must  have  science  itself  startling  us  with  silly  terrors  1 
As  for  the  servant,  I  will  answer  for  his  innocence;  his 
manner,  his  voice,  attest  it."  The  surgeon  drew  back, 
abashed  and  humbled,  and  began  to  apologize,  to  qual- 
ify, when  Lord  Doltimore  abruptly  entered. 

"  Good  Heavens!  "  said  he,  "  what  is  this?  What  do 
I  hear?  Is  it  possible?  Dead!  So  suddenly!"  He 
cast  a  hurried  glance  at  the  body,  shivered,  and  sick- 
ened, and  threw  himself  into  a  chair,  as  if  to  recover  the 
shock.  When  again  he  removed  his  hand  from  his  face, 
he  saw  lying  before  him  on  the  table  an  open  note. 

The  character  was  familiar;  his  own  name  struck  his 
eye,  —  i ^  was  the  note  which  Caroline  had  sent  the  day 
before.  As  no  one  heeded  him,  Lord  Doltimore  read 
on,  and  possessed  himself  of  the  proof  of  his  wife's  guilt 
unseen. 

The  surgeon,  now  turning  from  De  Montaigne,  who 
had  been  rating  him  soundly  for  the  last  few  moments, 
addressed  himself  to  Lord  Doltimore.  "  Your  lordship," 
said  he,  "  was,  I  hear.  Lord  Vargrave's  most  intimate 
friend  at  Paris.  ' 

"  I  his  intimate  friend !  "  said  Doltimore,  coloring 
highly,  and  in  a  disdainful  accent.  "  Sir,  you  are 
misinformed. " 

"  Have  you  no  orders  to  give,  then,  my  lord?  " 


ALICE;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  5/0 

"  Xone,  sir.  My  presence  here  is  quite  useless. 
Good -day  to  you,  gentlemen." 

"  With  whom,  then,  do  the  last  duties  rest?  "  said  the 
surgeon,  turning  to  INIaltravers  and  De  Montaigne. 
"  With  the  late  lord's  secretary  ?  I  expect  him  every 
moment;  and  here  he  is,  I  suppose,"  —  as  Mr.  Howard, 
pale,  and  evidently  overcome  by  his  agitation,  entered 
the  apartment.  Perhaps,  of  all  the  human  beings  whom 
the  ambitious  spirit  of  that  senseless  clay  had  drawn 
around  it  by  the  webs  of  interest,  affection,  or  intrigue, 
that  young  man,  whom  it  had  never  been  a  temptation 
to  Vargrave  to  deceive  or  injure,  and  who  missed  only 
the  gracious  and  familiar  patron,  mourned  most  his 
memory,  and  defended  most  his  character.  The  grief  of 
the  poor  secretary  was  now  indeed  overmastering.  He 
sobbed  and  wept  like  a  child. 

When  Maltravers  retired  from  the  chamber  of  death, 
De  Montaigne  accompanied  him;  but  soon  quitting 
him  again,  as  Ernest  bent  his  way  to  Evelyn,  he  quietly 
rejoined  Mr.  Howard,  Avho  readily  grasped  at  his  offers 
of  aid  in  the  last  melancholy  duties  and  directions. 


576  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

If  we  do  meet  again,  why,  we  shall  smile.  —  Julius  Cmsar. 

Thk  interview  with  Evelyn  was  long  and  painful.  It 
was  reserved  for  ]\laltravers  to  break  to  her  the  news  of 
the  sudden  death  of  Lord  Vargrave,  which  shocked  her 
unspeakably;  and  this,  which  made  their  first  topic, 
removed  much  constraint  and  deadened  much  excitement 
in  those  which  followed. 

Vargrave's  death  served  also  to  relieve  Maltravers 
from  a  most  anxious  embarrassment.  He  need  no  longer 
fear  that  Alice  would  be  degraded  in  the  eyes  of  Evelyn. 
Henceforth  the  secret  that  identified  the  erring  Alice 
Darvil  with  the  spotless  Lady  Vargrave  was  safe,  known 
only  to  Mrs.  Leslie  and  to  Aubrey.  In  the  course  of 
nature,  all  chance  of  its  disclosure  must  soon  die  with 
them;  and  should  Alice  at  last  become  his  wife,  and 
should  Cleveland  suspect  (which  was  not  probable)  that 
Maltravers  had  returned  to  his  first  love,  he  knew  that 
he  might  depend  on  the  inviolable  secrecy  of  his  earliest 
friend. 

The  tale  that  Vargrave  had  told  to  Evelyn  of  his  early 
^-  but,  according  to  that  tale,  guiltless  —  passion  for 
Alice,  he  tacitly  confirmed;  and  he  allowed  that  the 
recollection  of  her  virtues,  and  the  intelligence  of  her 
sorrows  and  unextinguishable  affection,  had  made  him 
recoil  from  a  marriage  with  her  supposed  daughter.  He 
then  proceeded  to  amaze  his  young  listener  with  the  ac- 
count of  the  mode  in  which  he  had  discovered  her  real 
parentage,  of  which    the  banker  had  left  it  to  Alice's 


ALICE;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  577 

discretion  to  inform  her,  after  she  had  attained  the  age 
of  eighteen.  And  then,  simply, but  with  manly  and  ill- 
controlled  emotion,  he  touched  upon  the  joy  of  Alice  at 
beholding  him  again ;  upon  the  endurance  and  fervor  of 
her  love;  upon  her  revulsion  of  feeling  at  learning  that, 
in  her  unforgotten  lover,  she  beheld  the  recent  suitor  of 
her  adopted  child. 

"And  now,"  said  Maltravers,  in  conclusion,  "the 
path  to  both  of  us  remains  the  same.  To  Alice  is  our 
first  duty.  The  discovery  I  have  made  of  your  real 
parentage  does  not  diminish  the  claims  which  Alice  has 
on  me, — does  not  lessen  the  grateful  affection  that  is 
due  to  her  from  yourself.  Yes,  Evelyn,  we  are  not  the 
less  separated  forever.  But  when  I  learned  the  wilful 
falsehood  which  the  unhappy  man,  now  hurried  to  his 
last  account  (to  whom  your  birth  was  known)  had 
imposed  upon  me,  —  namely,  that  you  were  the  child 
of  Alice,  — and  when  I  learned  also  that  you  had  been 
hurried  into  accepting  his  hand,  I  trembled  at  your 
union  with  one  so  false  and  base.  I  came  hither  re- 
solved to  frustrate  his  schemes,  and  to  save  you  from 
an  alliance,  the  motives  of  which  I  foresaw,  and  to 
which  my  own  letter,  my  own  desertion,  had  perhaps 
urged  you.  New  villanies  on  the  part  of  this  most  per- 
verted man  came  to  my  ear;  but  he  is  dead;  let  us  spare 
his  memory.  For  you,  —  oh,  still  let  me  deem  myself 
your  friend,  your  more  than  brother;  let  me  hope  now 
that  I  have  planted  no  thorn  in  that  breast,  and  that 
your  affection  does  not  shrink  from  the  cold  word  of 
friendship." 

"  Of  all  the  wonders  that  you  have  told  me,"  answered 
Evelyn,  as  soon  as  she  could  recover  the  power  of  words, 
"  my  most  poignant  sorrow  is,  that  I  have  no  rightful 
claim   to  give   a   daughter's   love  to  her  whom  I  shall 

37 


578  ALICE  ;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

ever  idolize  as  my  mother.  Oh,  now  I  see  why  I 
thought  her  affection  measured  and  lukewarm!  And 
have  I  —  I  destroyed  her  joy  at  seeing  you  again  ?  But 
you  —  you  will  hasten  to  console,  to  reassure  her!  She 
loves  you  still,  — she  will  be  happy  at  last;  and  that  — 
that  thought  —  oh,  that  thought  compensates  for  all!  " 

There  was  so  much  warmth  and  simplicity  in  Evelyn's 
artless  manner,  —  it  was  so  evident  that  her  love  for 
him  had  not  been  of  that  ardent  nature  which  would  at 
first  have  superseded  every  other  thought  in  the  anguish 
of  losing  him  forever,  —  that  the  scale  fell  from  the  eyes 
of  Maltravers,  and  he  saw  at  once  that  his  own  love  had 
blinded  him  to  the  true  character  of  hers.  He  was 
human;  and  a  sharp  pang  shot  across  his  breast.  He 
remained  silent  for  some  moments,  and  then  resumed, 
compelling  himself  as  he  spoke  to  fix  his  eyes  steadfastly 
on  hers,  — 

"And  now,  Evelyn,  —  still  may  I  so  call  you?  —  I 
have  a  duty  to  discharge  to  another.  You  are  loved  "  — 
and  he  smiled,  but  the  smile  Avas  sad  —  "  by  a  younger 
and  more  suitable  lover  than  I  am.  From  noble  and 
generous  motives  he  suppressed  that  love,  he  left  you  to 
a  rival:  the  rival  removed,  dare  he  venture  to  explain 
to  you  his  own  conduct,  and  plead  his  own  motives? 
George  Legard  —  "  Maltravers  paused.  The  cheek  on 
which  he  gazed  was  tinged  with  a  soft  blush;  Evelyn's 
eyes  were  downcast;  there  was  a  slight  heaving  be- 
neath the  robe.  Maltravers  suppressed  a  sigh  and  con- 
tinued. He  narrated  his  interview  with  Legard  at 
Dover,  and  passing  lightly  over  what  had  chanced  at  Ven- 
ice, dwelt  with  generous  eloquence  on  the  magnanimity 
with  which  his  rival's  gratitude  had  been  displayed. 
Evelyn's  eyes  sparkled,  and  the  smile  just  visited  the 
rosy   lips  and  vanished  again,  —  the   worst,  because  it 


ALICE;    OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  579 

was  the  least  selfish  fear  of  Mai tra vers  was  gone ;  and 
no  vain  doubt  of  Evelyn's  too  keen  regret  remained  to 
chill  his  conscience  in  obeying  its  earliest  and  strongest 
duties. 

"  Farewell!  "  he  said,  as  he  rose  to  depart;  "  I  will 
at  once  return  to  London,  and  assist  in  the  effort  to 
save  your  fortune  from  this  general  wreck:  life  calls 
us  back  to  its  cares  and  business;  farewell,  Evelyn! 
Aubrey  will,  I  trust,  remain  with  you  still." 

"  Kemain!  Can  I  not  return,  then,  to  my  —  to  her  — 
yes,  let  me  call  her  mother  still  1  " 

"Evelyn,"  said  Maltravers,  in  a  very  low  voice, 
"  spare  me  —  spare  her  that  pain !  Are  we  yet  fit  to  —  " 
He  paused;  Evelyn  comprehended  him,  and  hiding 
her  face  with  her  hands,  burst  into  tears. 

When  Maltravers  left  the  room,  he  was  met  by 
Aubrey,  who,  drawing  him  aside,  told  him  that  Lord 
Doltimore  had  just  informed  him  that  it  was  not  his  in- 
tention to  remain  at  Paris,  and  had  more  than  delicately 
hinted  at  a  wish  for  the  departure  of  Miss  Cameron. 
In  this  emergency,  Maltravers  bethought  himself  of 
Madame  de  Ventadour. 

No  house  in  Paris  was  a  more  eligible  refuge,  no 
friend  more  zealous,  no  protector  would  be  more  kind, 
no  adviser  more  sincere.  To  her,  then,  he  hastened. 
He  briefly  informed  her  of  Vargrave's  sudden  death, 
and  suggested  that  for  Evelyn  to  return  at  once  to  a 
sequestered  village  in  England  might  be  a  severe  trial 
to  spirits  already  broken,  and  declared  truly  that 
though  his  marriage  with  Evelyn  was  broken  off",  her 
welfare  was  no  less  dear  to  him  than  heretofore.  At  his 
first  hint,  Valerie,  who  took  a  cordial  interest  in  Evelyn 
for  her  own  sake,  ordered  her  carriage,  and  drove  at 
once  to  Lady  Doltimore's.     His  lordship  was  out;  her 


580  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

ladyship  was  ill,  in  her  own  room,  —  could  see  no  one, 
not  even  her  guest.  Evelyn  in  vain  sent  up  to  request 
an  interview,  and  at  last,  contenting  herself  with  an 
affectionate  note  of  farewell,  accompanied  Aubrey  to 
the   home   of   her   new   hostess. 

Gratified  at  least  to  know  her  with  one  who  would  be 
sure  to  win  her  affection  and  soothe  her  spirits,  Mal- 
travers  set  out  on  his  solitary  return  to  England. 

Whatever  suspicious  circumstances  might  or  might 
not  have  attended  the  death  of  Lord  Vargrave,  certain 
it  is  that  no  evidence  confirmed,  and  no  popular  rumor 
circulated  them.  His  late  illness,  added  to  the  supposed 
shock  of  the  loss  of  the  fortune  he  had  anticipated  with 
Miss  Cameron,  aided  by  the  simultaneous  intelligence 
of  the  defeat  of  the  party  with  whom  it  was  believed 
he  had  indissolubly  entwined  his  ambition,  sufficed  to 
account,  satisfactorily  enough,  for  the  melancholy  event. 
De  jMontaigne,  who  had  been  long  though  not  inti- 
mately acquainted  with  the  deceased,  took  upon  himself 
all  the  necessary  arrangements,  and  superintended  the 
funeral;  after  which  ceremony,  Howard  returned  to 
London,  and  in  Paris,  as  in  the  grave,  all  things  are 
forgotten.  But  still  in  De  Montaigne's  breast  there 
dwelt  a  horrible  fear.  As  soon  as  he  had  learned  from 
Maltravers  the  charge  the  maniac  brought  against  Var- 
grave, there  came  upon  him  the  recollection  of  that  day 
when  Cesarini  had  attempted  De  Montaigne's  life,  evi- 
dently mistaking  him  in  his  delirium  for  another,  and 
the  sullen,  cunning,  and  ferocious  character  which  the 
insanity  had  ever  afterwards  assumed.  He  had  learned 
from  Howard  that  the  outer  door  had  been  left  ajar 
when  Lord  Vargrave  was  with  Maltravers ;  the  writing 
on  the  panel  —  the  name  of  Vargrave  —  would  have 
struck  Castruccio's  eye  as  he  descended  the  stairs;  the 


ALICE;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES.  581 

servant  was  from  home,  the  apartments  deserted;  he 
might  have  won  his  way  into  the  bedchamber,  concealed 
himself  in  the  armoire,  and  in  the  dead  of  the  night, 
and  in  the  deep  and  helpless  sleep  of  his  victim,  have 
done  the  deed.  What  need  of  weapons  ?  —  the  suffocat- 
ing pillows  would  stop  speech  and  life.  Wliat  so  easy  as 
escape  1  —  to  pass  into  the  anteroom ;  to  unbolt  the  door ; 
to  descend  into  the  courtyard;  to  give  the  signal  to  the 
porter  in  his  lodge,  who,  without  seeing  him,  would 
pull  the  cordon,  and  give  him  egress  unobserved?  All 
this  was  so  possible,  so  probable. 

De  Montaigne  now  withdrew  all  inquiry  for  the  un- 
fortunate; he  trembled  at  the  thought  of  discovering 
him,  of  verifying  his  awful  suspicions,  of  beholding  a 
murderer  in  the  brother  of  his  wife.  But  he  was  not 
doomed  long  to  entertain  fears  for  Cesarini ;  he  was  not 
fated  ever  to  change  suspicion  into  certainty.  A  few 
days  after  Lord  Vargrave's  burial,  a  corpse  was  drawn 
from  the  Seine.  Some  tablets  in  the  pockets,  scrawled 
over  with  wild,  incoherent  verses,  gave  a  clew  to  the 
discovery  of  the  dead  man's  friends;  and  exposed  at  the 
Morgue,  in  that  bleached  and  altered  clay,  De  Mon- 
taigne recognized  the  remains  of  Castruccio  Cesarini. 
"  He  died,  and  made  no  sign!  " 


582  ALICE;   OR,   THE  MYSTERIES. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Singula  quseque  locum  teneant  sortita.^  —  Hor.  :  Art.  Poet. 

Maltkavers  and  the  lawyers  were  enabled  to  save  from 
the  insolvent  bank  but  a  very  scanty  portion  of  that 
wealth  in  which  Richard  Templeton  had  rested  so  much 
of  pride.  The  title  extinct,  the  fortune  gone,  — so  does 
fate  laugh  at  our  posthumous  ambition.  Meanwhile 
Mr,  Douce,  with  a  considerable  plunder,  had  made  his 
way  to  America;  the  bank  owed  nearly  half  a  million; 
the  purchase-money  for  Lisle  Court,  which  Mr.  Douce 
had  been  so  anxious  to  get  into  his  clutches,  had  not 
sufficed  to  stave  off  the  ruin, — but  a  great  part  of  it 
sufficed  to  procure  competence  for  himself.  How  in- 
ferior in  wit,  in  acuteness,  in  stratagem,  was  Douce  to 
Vargrave ;  and  yet  Douce  had  gulled  him  like  a  child ! 
Well  said  the  shrewd  small  philosopher  of  France,  "  On 
pent  etre  plus  fin  qu'un  autre.,  mais  pas  plus  fin  que 
tous  les  autres."  ^ 

To  Legard,  whom  IMaltravers  had  again  encountered 
at  Dover,  the  latter  related  the  downfall  of  Evelyn's 
fortunes;  and  Maltravers  loved  him  when  he  saw  that, 
far  from  changing  his  affection,  the  loss  of  wealth 
seemed  rather  to  raise  his  hopes.  They  parted;  and 
Legard  set  out  for  Paris. 

But  was  Maltravers  all  the  while  forgetful  of  Alice  ? 
He  had  not  been   twelve  hours  in  London   before   he 

*  To  each  lot  its  appropriate  place. 

*  One  may  be  more  sharp  than  one's  neighbor,  but  oue  can't  be 
sharper  than  all  one's  neighbors.  —  Rochefodcauld. 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  583 

committed  to  a  long  and  truthful  letter  all  his  thoughts, 
his  hopes,  his  admiring  and  profound  gratitude.  Again, 
and  with  solemn  earnestness,  he  implored  her  to  accept 
his  hand,  and  to  confirm  at  the  altar  the  tale  which  had 
been  told  to  Evelyn.  Truly  he  said,  that  the  shock 
which  his  first  belief  in  Vargrave's  falsehood  had  occa- 
sioned, —  his  passionate  determination  to  subdue  all 
trace  of  a  love  then  associated  with  crime  and  horror, 
followed  so  close  by  his  discovery  of  Alice's  enduring 
faith  and  affection,  — had  removed  the  image  of  Evelyn 
from  the  throne  it  had  hitherto  held  in  his  desires  and 
thoughts;  truly  he  said,  that  he  was  now  convinced  that 
Evelyn  would  soon  be  consoled  for  his  loss  by  another, 
with  whom  she  would  be  happier  than  with  him;  truly 
and  solemnly  he  declared,  that  if  Alice  rejected  him 
still,  if  even  Alice  were  no  more,  his  suit  to  Evelyn 
never  could  be  renewed,  and  Alice's  memory  would 
usurp  the  place  of  all  living  love. 

Her  answer  came ;  it  pierced  him  to  the  heart.  It 
was  so  humble,  so  grateful,  so  tender  still.  Unknown 
to  herself,  love  yet  colored  every  word;  but  it  was  love 
pained,  galled,  crushed,  and  trampled  on:  it  was  love 
proud  from  its  very  depth  and  purity.  His  offer  was 
refused. 

Months  passed  away.  Maltravers  yet  trusted  to 
time.  The  curate  had  returned  to  Brook-Green,  and  his 
letters  fed  Ernest's  hopes  and  assured  his  doubts.  The 
more  leisure  there  was  left  him  for  reflection,  the  fainter 
became  those  dazzling  and  rainbow  hues  in  which  Evelyn 
had  been  robed  and  surrounded,  and  the  brighter  the 
halo  that  surrounded  his  earliest  love.  The  more  he 
pondered  on  Alice's  past  history,  and  the  singular  beauty 
of  her  faithful  attachment,  the  more  he  was  impressed 
with  wonder  and  admiration,  —  the  more  anxious  to  se- 


584  ALICE;   OR,  THE   MYSTERIES. 

cure  to  his  side  one  to  whom  Nature  had  been  so  bounti- 
ful in  all  the  gifts  that  make  woman  the  angel  and  star 
of  life. 

Months  passed.  From  Paris  the  news  that  Maltravers 
received  confirmed  all  his  expectations;  the  suit  of 
Legard  had  replaced  his  own.  It  was  then  that  Mal- 
travers began  to  consider  how  far  the  fortune  of  Evelyn 
and  her  destined  husband  was  such  as  to  preclude  all 
anxiety  for  their  future  lot.  Fortune  is  so  indeter- 
minate in  its  gauge  and  measurement.  Money,  the  most 
elastic  of  materials,  falls  short  or  exceeds,  according  to 
the  extent  of  our  wants  and  desires.  With  all  Legard's 
good  qualities,  he  was  constitutionally  careless  and  ex- 
travagant; and  Evelyn  was  too  inexperienced,  and  too 
gentle,  perhaps,  to  correct  his  tendencies.  Maltravers 
learned  that  Legard's  income  was  one  that  required  an 
economy  which  he  feared  that,  in  spite  of  all  his  refor- 
mation ,  Legard  might  not  have  the  self-denial  to  enforce. 
After  some  consideration,  he  resolved  to  add  secretly  to 
the  remains  of  Evelyn's  fortune  such  a  sum  as  might, 
being  properly  secured  to  lierself  and  children,  lessen 
whatever  danger  could  arise  from  the  possible  improvi- 
dence of  her  husband,  and  guard  against  the  chance  of 
those  embarrassments  which  are  among  the  worst  dis- 
turbers of  domestic  peace.  He  was  enabled  to  effect 
this  generosity  unknown  to  both  of  them,  as  if  the  sum 
bestowed  were  collected  from  the  wrecks  of  Evelyn's 
own  wealth,  and  the  profits  of  the  sale  of  the  houses  in 

C ,    which   of   course   had   not   been    involved    in 

Donee's  bankruptcy.  And  then,  if  Alice  were  ever 
his,  her  jointure,  which  had  been  secured,  on  the  prop- 
erty appertaining  to  the  villa  at  Eulham,  would  devolve 
upon  Evelyn.  Maltravers  could  never  accept  what 
Alice    owed   to   another.     Poor   Alice!     No;  not   that 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  585 

modest  wealth  which  you  had  looked  upon  complacently 
as  one  day  or  other  to  be  his. 

Lord  Doltimore  is  travelling  in  the  East;  Lady  Dolti- 
more,  less  adventurous,  has  fixed  her  residence  in  Eome. 
She  has  grown  thin,  and  taken  to  antiquities  and  rouge. 
Her  spirits  are  remarkably  high,  —  not  an  uncommon 
effect  of  laudanum. 


586  ALICE;  OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 


CHAPTER  THE   LAST. 

Arrived  at  last 
Unto  the  wished  haven. 

Shakespeare. 

In  the  August  of  that  eventful  year  a  bridal  party  were 
assembled  at  the  cottage  of  Lady  Vargrave.  The 
ceremony  had  just  been  performed;  and  Ernest  Mal- 
travers  had  bestowed  upon  George  Legard  the  hand  of 
Evelyn  Templeton. 

If  upon  the  countenance  of  him  who  thus  ofificiated 
as  a  father  to  her  he  had  once  wooed  as  a  bride,  an  ob- 
servant eye  might  have  noted  the  trace  of  mental  strug- 
gles, it  was  the  trace  of  struggles  past ;  and  the  calm  had 
once  more  settled  over  the  silent  deeps.  He  saw  from 
the  casement  the  carriage  that  was  to  bear  away  the 
bride  to  the  home  of  another,  the  gay  faces  of  the  vil- 
lage group,  whose  intrusion  was  not  forbidden,  and  to 
whom  that  solemn  ceremonial  was  but  a  joyous  pageant; 
and  when  he  turned  once  more  to  those  within  the 
chamber,  he  felt  his  hand  clasped  in  Legard's. 

"  You  have  been  the  preserver  of  my  life,  you  have 
been  the  dispenser  of  my  earthly  happiness;  all  now 
left  to  me  to  wish  for  is  that  you  may  receive  from 
Heaven  the  blessings  you  have  given  to  others!  " 

"Legard,  never  let  her  know  a  sorrow  that  you  can 
guard  her  from;  and  believe  that  the  husband  of  Evelyn 
will  be  dear  to  me  as  a  brother." 

And  as  a  brother  blesses  some  younger  and  orphan 
sister,  bequeathed  and  intrusted  to  a  care  that  should 


ALICE;   OR,   THE    MYSTERIES.  587 

replace  a  father's,  so  Maltravers  laid  his  hand  lightly 
on  Evelyn's  golden  tresses,  and  his  lips  moved  in 
prayer.  He  ceased;  he  pressed  his  last  kiss  upon  her 
forehead,  and  placed  her  hand  in  that  of  her  young  hus- 
band. There  Avas  silence;  and  when  to  the  ear  of 
Maltravers  it  was  broken,  it  was  by  the  wheels  of  the 
carriage  that  bore  away  the  wife  of  George  Legard. 

The  spell  was  dissolved  forever.  And  there  stood 
before  the  lonely  man  the  idol  of  his  early  youth,  the 
Alice,  still,  perhaps,  as  fair,  and  once  young  and  pas- 
sionate, as  Evelyn,  —  pale,  changed,  but  lovelier  than  of 
old,  if  heavenly  patience  and  holy  thought,  and  the 
trials  that  purify  and  exalt,  can  shed  over  human  fea- 
tures something  more  beautiful  than  bloom. 

The  good  curate  alone  was  present,  besides  these  two 
survivors  of  the  error  and  the  love  that  make  the  rap- 
ture and  the  misery  of  so  many  of  our  kind.  And  the 
old  man,  after  contemplating  them  a  moment,  stole  un- 
perceived  away. 

"Alice,"  said  Maltravers,  and  his  voice  trembled, 
"hitherto,  from  motives  too  pure  and  too  noble  for  the 
practical  affections  and  ties  of  life,  you  have  rejected  the 
hand  of  the  lover  of  your  youth.  Here  again  I  implore 
you  to  be  mine!  Give  to  my  conscience  the  balm  of 
believing  that  I  can  repair  to  you  the  evils  and  the  sor- 
rows I  have  brought  upon  you.  Nay,  weep  not;  turn 
not  away.  Each  of  us  stands  alone ;  each  of  us  needs 
the  other.  In  your  heart  is  locked  up  all  my  fondest 
associations,  my  brightest  memories.  In  you  I  see  the 
mirror  of  what  I  was  when  the  world  was  new,  ere  I  had 
found  how  pleasure  palls  upon  us,  and  ambition  de- 
ceives. And  me,  Alice,  —  ah,  you  love  me  still !  Time 
and  absence  have  but  strengthened  the  chain  that  binds 
us.     By  the    memory  of  our  early  love,    by  the  grave 


588  ALICE;  OK,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

of  our  lost  child,  that,  had  it  lived,  would  have  united 
its  parents,  I  implore  you  to  be  mine !  " 

"Too  generous!  "  said  Alice,  almost  sinking  beneath 
the  emotions  that  shook  that  gentle  spirit  and  fragile 
form.  "  How  can  I  suffer  your  compassion  —  for  it  is 
but  compassion  —  to  deceive  yourself?  You  are  of  an- 
other station  than  I  believed  you.  How  can  you  raise 
the  child  of  destitution  and  guilt  to  your  own  rank  ? 
And  shall  I  —  I,  who.  Heaven  knows!  would  save 
you  from  all  regret  —  bring  to  you  now,  when  years 
have  so  changed  and  broken  the  little  charm  I  could 
ever  have  possessed,  this  blighted  heart  and  weary 
spirit?  Oh,  no,  no!  "  and  Alice  paused  abruptly,  and 
the  tears  rolled  down  her  cheeks. 

"Be  it  as  you  will,"  said  Maltravers,  mournfully; 
"but,  at  least,  ground  your  refusal  upon  better  motives. 
Say  that  now,  independent  in  fortune,  and  attached  to 
the  habits  you  have  formed,  you  would  not  hazard  your 
happiness  in  my  keeping;  perhaps  you  are  right.  To 
my  happiness  you  would  indeed  contribute :  your  sweet 
voice  might  charm  away  many  a  memory  and  many  a 
thought  of  the  baffled  years  that  have  intervened  since 
we  parted;  your  imago  might  dissipate  the  solitude 
which  is  closing  round  the  future  of  a  disappointed  and 
anxious  life.  With  you,  and  with  you  alone,  I  might 
yet  find  a  home,  a  comforter,  a  charitable  and  soothing 
friend.  This  you  could  give  to  me,  and  with  a  heart 
and  a  form  alike  faitliful  to  a  love  that  deserved  not  so 
enduring  a  devotion.  But  I,  — what  can  I  bestow  on 
you?  Your  station  is  equal  to  my  own;  your  fortune 
satisfies  your  simple  wants.  'T  is  true  the  exchange  is 
not  equal,  Alice.     Adieu!" 

"Cruel!"   said   Alice,   approaching  him  with  timid 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  589 

steps.  "  If  I  could,  — I,  so  untutored,  so  unworthy,  — 
if  I  could  comfort  you  in  a  single  care !  " 

She  said  no  more,  but  she  had  said  enough ;  and  Mal- 
travers,  clasping  her  to  his  bosom,  felt  once  more  that 
heart  which  never,  even  in  thought,  had  swerved  from 
its  early  worship,  beating  against  his  own. 

He  drew  her  gently  into  the  open  air.  The  ripe  and 
mellow  noonday  of  the  last  month  of  summer  glowed 
upon  the  odorous  flowers;  and  the  broad  sea,  that 
stretched  beyond  and  afar,  wore  upon  its  solemn  waves 
a  golden  and  happy  smile. 

"And  ah!"  murmured  Alice,  softly,  as  she  looked 
up  from  his  breast,  "  I  ask  not  if  you  have  loved  others 
since  we  parted,  —  man's  faith  is  so  diflferent  from  ours, 
—  I  only  ask  if  you  love  me  now  ?  " 

"  More,  oh,  immeasurably  more,  than  in  our  younger 
days!"  cried  Maltravers,  with  fervent  passion.  "  More 
fondly,  more  reverently,  more  trustfully,  than  I  ever 
loved  living  being !  —  even  her  in  whose  youth  and  in- 
nocence I  adored  the  memory  of  thee!  Here  have  I 
found  that  which  shames  and  bankrupts  the  ideal ! 
Here  have  I  found  a  virtue,  that,  coming  at  once  from 
God  and  Nature ,  has  been  wiser  than  all  my  false  phi- 
losophy, and  firmer  than  all  my  pride!  You,  cradled 
by  misfortune ;  your  childhood  reared  amidst  scenes  of 
fear  and  vice,  which,  while  they  scared  back  the  intel- 
lect, had  no  pollution  for  the  soul;  your  very  parent 
your  tempter  and  your  foe;  you,  only  not  a  miracle 
and  an  angel  by  the  stain  of  one  soft  and  unconscious 
error,  —  you,  alike  through  the  equal  trials  of  poverty  and 
wealth,  have  been  destined  to  rise  above  all  triumphant: 
the  example  of  the  sublime  moral  that  teaches  us  with 
what  mysterious  beauty  and  immortal  holiness  the 
Creator  has  endowed  our  human  nature  when  hallowed 


590  ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES. 

by  our  human  affections!  You  alone  suffice  to  shatter 
into  dust  the  haughty  creeds  of  the  misanthrope  and 
Pharisee.  And  your  fidelity  to  my  erring  self  has 
taught  me  ever  to  love,  to  serve,  to  compassionate,  to 
respect,  the  community  of  God's  creatures  to  which  — 
noble  and  elevated  though  you  are  —  you  yet  belong !  " 

He  ceased,  overpowered  with  the  rush  of  his  own 
thoughts.  And  Alice  was  too  blest  for  words.  But  in 
the  murmur  of  the  sunlit  leaves,  in  the  breath  of  the 
summer  air,  in  the  song  of  the  exulting  birds,  and  the 
deep  and  distant  music  of  the  heaven-surrounded  seas, 
there  went  a  melodious  voice  that  seemed  as  if  Nature 
echoed  to  his  words,  and  blessed  the  reunion  of  her 
children. 

Maltravers  once  more  entered  upon  the  career  so  long 
suspended.  He  entered  with  an  energy  more  practical 
and  steadfast  than  the  fitful  enthusiasm  of  former  years ; 
and  it  was  noticeable  amongst  those  who  knew  him  well, 
that  while  the  firmness  of  his  mind  was  not  impaired, 
the  haughtiness  of  his  temper  was  subdued.  No  longer 
despising  man  as  he  is,  and  no  longer  exacting  from  all 
things  the  ideal  of  a  visionary  standard,  he  was  more 
fitted  to  mix  in  the  living  world,  and  to  minister  use- 
fully to  the  great  objects  that  refine  and  elevate  our  race. 
His  sentiments  were,  perhaps,  less  lofty,  but  his  actions 
were  infinitely  more  excellent,  and  his  theories  in- 
finitely more  wise. 

Stage  after  stage  we  have  proceeded  with  him  through 
the  Mysteries  of  Life.  The  Eleusinia  are  closed, 
and  the  crowning  libation  poured. 

A.nd  Alice !  —  will  the  world  blame  us  if  you  are 
left  happy  at  the  last?  We  are  daily  banishing  from 
our  law-books  the  statutes    that   disproportion  punish- 


ALICE;   OR,   THE   MYSTERIES.  591 

ment  to  crime.  Daily  we  preach  the  doctrine  that  we 
demoralize,  wherever  we  strain  justice  into  cruelty.  It 
is  time  that  we  should  apply  to  the  social  code  the 
wisdom  we  recognize  in  legislation.  It  is  time  that  we 
should  do  away  with  the  punishment  of  death  for  in- 
adequate offences,  even  in  books;  it  is  time  that  we 
should  allow  the  morality  of  atonement,  and  permit  to 
error  the  right  to  hope,  as  the  reward  of  submission  to 
its  sufferings.  Nor  let  it  be  thought  that  the  close  to 
Alice's  career  can  offer  temptation  to  the  offence  of  its 
commencement.  Eighteen  years  of  sadness  —  a  youth 
consumed  in  silent  sorrow  over  the  grave  of  joy  —  have 
images  that  throw  over  these  pages  a  dark  and  warning 
shadow  that  will  haunt  the  young  long  after  they  turn 
from  the  tale  that  is  about  to  close.  If  Alice  had  died 
of  a  broken  heart,  —  if  her  punishment  had  been  more 
than  she  could  bear,  —  then,  as  in  real  life,  you  would 
have  justly  condemned  my  moral;  and  the  human 
heart,  in  its  pity  for  the  victim,  would  have  lost  all 
recollection  of  the  error.     My  tale  is  done. 


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Wives,  1  vol.  for  Life,  1  vol. 

Port  Tarascon,  and   La  Fe'dor,  The  Support  of  the  Family,  IvoL 

1  vol.  Jack,  2  vols. 


THE    ROMANCES    OF   VICTOR    HUGO 

XITITH  28  portraits  and  plates.     14  vols.     12.mo.   Dec- 
orated  cloth,  in  box,  $14.00.     Half  crushed  mo- 
rocco, gilt  top,  $38.50. 

Les  Miserables,  5  vols.  The  Man  who  Laughs,  2  vols. 

Toilers  of  the  Sea,  2  vols.  Hans  of  Iceland,  1  voL 

Ninety-Three,  1  vol.  Bug-Jargal,  Claude  Gueux,  Last 

Notre  Dame,  2  vols.  Day  of  a  Condemned,  etc.  1  vol. 

SAMUEL   LOVER'S   NOVELS 

V^^ITH    photogravure    frontispieces.       4   vols.     12mo. 
Decorated    cloth,  gilt  top,  in   box,  $4.00.      Half 
crushed  morocco,  gilt  top,  $11.00. 
Rory  O'More,  1  vol.  Handy  Andy,  1  vol. 

Treasure  Trove,  1  vol.  Legends  of  Ireland,  1  vol. 


HANDY    LIBRARY    SETS 


THE   NOVELS   AND   ROMANCES    OF 
EDWARD   BULWER  LYTTON 


(liORD   LYTTON) 


T1/7TH  40  plates,  etched  by  W.  H.  W.  Bicknell,  from 
drawings  by  Edmund  H.  Garrett.     31  vols.    12mo. 
Decorated  cloth,  gilt  top,  $31.00.     Half  crushed  morocco, 
gilt  top,  $85.25. 


The  Caxton  Novels 

The  Caxtona,  2  vols. 

My  Novel,  3  vols. 

What  will  He  do  with  It  7  2  vols. 

Novels  of  Life  and  Manners 

Pelham,  and  Falkland,  2  vols. 

The  Disowned,  1  vol. 

Paul  Clifford,  1  vol. 

Godolphin,  1  vol. 

Ernest  Maltravers,  1  vol. 

Alice,  1  vol. 

Night  and  Morning,  1  vol. 

Lucretia,  1  voL 

Kenelm  Chillingly,  etc.,  2  vols. 

The  Parisians,  2  vols. 


Romances 

Eugene  Aram,  1  vol. 

Pilgrims  of  the    Rhine,   Leila, 

and  Calderon,  etc.,  1  vol. 
Zanoni,  and  Zicci,  1  vol. 
A   Strange    Story,    and    The 

Haunted    and   the  Haunters, 

IvoL 
Historical  Romances 
Devereux,  1  vol. 
Last  Days  of  Pompeii,  1  voL 
Rienzi,  1  vol. 
Last  of  the  Barons,  2  vols. 
Harold,  1  vol. 

Poems  and  Dramas,  1  vol. 


THE  NOVELS  AND  POEMS  OF 
GEORGE  ELIOT 

"T^/^ITH  10  photogravure  plates  and  10  full-page  pictures 

in  half-tone.    10  vols.     12mo.    Decorated  cloth,  gilt 

top,  in  box,  810.00.    Half  crushed  morocco,  gilt  top,  $27.50. 


Romola,  1  vol. 
Adam  Bede,  1  vol. 
The  Mill  on  the  Floss,  1  vol. 
Felix   Holt,   and    Theophrastus 
Such,  1  vol. 


Scenes    of  Clerical    Life,    Silas 

Mamer,  etc.,  1  vol. 
Middlemarch,  2  vols. 
Daniel  Deronda,  2  vols. 
Poems  and  Essays,  1  vol. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  COMPANY,  Publishers 
254   WASHINGTON  STREET  •  BOSTON,   MASS. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA    000  367  979    2 


II 


